Breaking Free
by Mickey3
Summary: What if Scott's brain damage had not only caused Scott to lose control of his powers, but also made them manifest earlier? What if someone with less honorable intentions had found Scott first? How different would Scott be?
1. Prologue

Breaking Free By Mickey

Additional Note: My writing skills have greatly improved since I started this fic so many years ago. Due to a few factors (work, real life, and a severe case of writers' block in this fandom) this fic kinda got left hanging and went untouched for over a year after the last part was posted. In 2004/05, I'd gone back from time to time to add a line here and there to the last chapter I was working on, but not much was done. Early in 2006, I decided to do an over-haul of this fic. There were some parts that I never really liked when I originally wrote them, and some things that, as was pointed out to me, just didn't make any sense (like how a land-locked state could have an ocean). Some parts have relatively minor changes, some when through a major rewrite. One big change, I've taken out the dates for the most part. I found them confusing and restricting at times. I think the story flows better without them. Also, Ive written a new Chapter 6. So what was Chapter 6 is now 7, 7 is now 8 and so on.

Many thanks to my new beta reader, Mary! She took up the challenge since my beta read who took over last year, Linda, has disappeared and I haven't been able to get in touch with her for since around October of '07.

* * *

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are Marvel's. The Master and any non-recognizable are mine, so be nice and ask if you want to play with my toys :-)

Rating: I'm going with a PG rating for now, but that might change.

Archive: RedShades, anyone else just ask.

Feedback is welcomed wholeheartedly. Flamers will have a hose turned on 'em.

Dedication: This is for Ali Malik, 'cuz she asked for it.

Acknowledgments: Jubes, Sequoia, Dannell, and MistyBlueAngel for some betaing. There where a few others who gave me some help with this part, but for the life of me, I can't remember their names. Sorry! You know who you are so . . . thanks! Many thanks to my beta, Crystal Wimmer. She's the best!

~words~ Is telepathic talking

*words* Is someone's thoughts

Notes: This story is in response to a challenge sent by Ali Malik, to the RedShades mailing list, to write Scott dark. Reading the challenge, I started asking myself a few questions. What if Scott's brain damage had not only caused Scott to lose control of his powers, but also made them manifest earlier? What if someone with less honorable intentions had found Scott first? How different would Scott be? How would it affect how/when the other X-Men were recruited by Xavier? This story is my answer to those questions.

I've made a lot of changes in this story. The biggest ones are when Scott's powers first manifest, the order in which the X-Men are recruited, and the ages of the X-Men. You should be able to pick up on everything OK (I hope). If not, e-mail me and I'll answer any questions you may have. Now ... on with the fic!

One last thing ... This ain't Marvel's Scott. You have been warned. ::: Evil grin :::

Copyright 11/2000  
Updated 3/25/08

Word Count: 2,514

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Prologue

March 15th, 1985

"This one?" the man asked, pointing to a gauge. The little boy on his lap nodded. "That is called the Altimeter. It registers changes in atmospheric pressure accompanying changes in altitude," he told the boy. Then added, "Basically, it tells you how high you are." The man was Major Christopher "Corsair" Summers; the boy was his oldest son, Scott.

Scott listened intently as his father pointed out more instruments and explained each one's function. The first time his father had taken him flying, Scott knew he would someday join the Air Force and be a pilot like his dad. It had been his third birthday, and his father had arranged the flight as a special present. He'd fallen in love with flying on that day. It was like nothing he had ever experienced in his young life.

While most boys his age had posters of superheroes hanging on their walls, Scott had posters of planes and jets. Model aircraft hung crazily from his bedroom ceiling by strings; books about aircraft of every imaginable kind lined his bookcase shelves. Although Scott had learned to read when he was four, he didn't really understand most of what many of the books said. He loved them all anyway, especially the ones with pictures. He'd even dressed up as a pilot last Halloween. As time passed, his interest in flying grew. The boy jumped at every opportunity to go flying with his father.

"What about those," Scott asked, pointing to two levers side by side.

Christopher knew Scott had already memorized the name and function of almost every lever, gauge, and button on the plane. The boy simply loved to sit on his lap and have his father explain them all to him. To be honest, Chris enjoyed it just as much as his son did. "Well, those are the fuel release valves. If I need to dump the fuel from one of the engines, I pull one of those levers." He pointed to one, then the other, as he explained. "I pull that one for the right one, and that one for the left engine."

Without warning, the plane lurched forward.

"Shit," Chris cursed under his breath as he fought to control the plane. "Scott, get down," he told the boy on his lap.

Scott knew something was wrong. He immediately slid off his fathers lap as Christopher fought the control stick.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah.  
The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah.  
The ants go marching one by one,  
the little one stops to suck his thumb.  
And they all go marching down  
to the ground.  
To get out of the rain,  
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Two voices sang enthusiastically. A blonde-haired little boy, Alex Summers, bounced happily in his mother's, Kate's lap. He clapped enthusiastically as they sang, his voice rose louder with each boom.

The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah.  
The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah.  
The ants go marching two by two,  
The little one stops to tie his shoe,  
And they all go marching down  
to the ground,  
To get out of the rain,  
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Kate tickled her son, who laughed and squirmed. Alex smiled up at his Mom.

The ants went march ...

The two began again, then suddenly stopped as the plane lurched forward. Kate grabbed her son and held him tightly.

"Mommy," Alex screamed, as the rear of the plane erupted in flames. He wrapped his small arms around his mother's neck and clung tightly to her as he sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder.

"Shhh, it's OK, Alex. Mommy's here." Kate spoke soothingly to her youngest son as she rubbed the three-year-olds back. She knew just how to talk to the little boy to calm him down. His sobbing quieted and his grip loosened slightly. Another explosion wracked the plane, and Alex's grip tightened again. He screamed once more and his crying increased until he began to choke on his tears.

"Alex, Honey, calm down." She pushed the hysterical little boy away from her and held him at arms length. Kate knew how serious the situation was, but she also knew she had to keep calm and keep Alex calm. Kate felt her heart leap into her throat as she looked to the rear of the plane and saw the parachutes catch on fire. *No! No, not the 'chutes,* she thought in terror. She looked around frantically trying to locate the fire extinguisher. *Damn,* she cursed mentally as she realized she'd forgotten to replace it after their last flight. Chris had realized it was low and had asked her to replace it, but she'd gotten distracted and completely forgot.

She looked at Alex again. Tears streaked down the terrified boy's cheeks. "Listen to me, Alex," she began as calmly as she could. "Mommy has to get the parachutes before they burn. I need you to be very brave for me. Sit here, very still, while I get them. OK?"

Alex stared hesitantly at his mother. He didn't want her to go near the fire. He threw himself at her, tightly wrapping his arms around her neck. "No mommy. Don't go. The fire will get you. Don't go!" His crying got hysterical and his small chest hiccupped with the falling tears.

Kate squeezed him tightly then pushed him to arm's length again. *Oh, God, no,* she thought as a second chute caught on fire. She didnt have time for this. Kate knew she had to calm Alex down quickly and get to the chutes. "Alex, listen to me. I know you're scared, Baby, but Mommy has to get the parachutes or we will all be in very big trouble. Do you understand?" Kate prayed he would calm down long enough for her to get the two remaining chutes.

Alex stared at his mother as she spoke. He might still be a little kid, but he was old enough to know what "big trouble" meant. Alex nodded 'yes'. He hugged his mother again, briefly, and then let go.

Kate smiled at her son. "That's my brave boy." She touched his face gently as she sat him down, and strapped him into his seat then ran to the burning parachutes. She reached out for the chutes just as the third caught on fire. Kate grabbed it and the last one as well. She frantically tried to pat out the flames. She coughed as the thick smoke filled her lungs. Dropping to her knees, she crawled back over to Alex, checking the chute that had caught fire as she went. Fear gripped her heart as she realized she was too late. There was a huge hole in the 'chute pack, exposing the charred silk.

Kate looked up at Alex. She hugged him, trying to put on a brave smile. "Alex, I have to go talk to Daddy." She broke the hug and looked at him. "Don't move till I come back here, Okay?"

Terror filled eyes stared up at Kate. "Yes, Mommy." The little boy put his head on his knees and pulled his body into a tight ball.

Tears filled Kate's eyes as she looked at her little boy. He tries so hard to be like Scott, she thought. They're so much alike, but yet so different. She stood on shaky legs and walked into the cockpit.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

The cockpit door opened and Kate Summers walked in. She walked over to Scott and knelt beside him. "Go into the back and watch Alex, honey," she told her oldest son, pushing down the panic she felt to keep it out of her voice.

Scott nodded. He didn't want to leave, but he knew something was seriously wrong. Daddy rarely said bad words, and Mommy almost never came into the cockpit. "Okay, Mommy," he said as he left the cockpit.

Kate watched the boy leave, and then turned to her husband. "What happened, Chris?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Can you land the plane?"

Chris grimaced and fought the controls as the plane pitched forward. He somehow managed to level it out again. "I don't think so. Get the parachutes ready."

"There's only one left. The others caught on fire." She hesitated a moment before continuing. Her voice was full of dread as she spoke again. "We'll have to put the last chute on Scott and tie Alex to him. It's the only way to get them both off."

Chris' heart plummeted. He nodded. "Get the boys ready. I'll be back there in a minute."

Kate stood and walked back to her boys. Scott was standing just beyond the cockpit door. He watched as his mother took the last parachute from where she'd set it beside Alex. She undid Alex's seatbelt and helped him out of his seat, then turned and knelt down in front of Scott and strapped him into the chute. "Daddy can't land the plane, so we will have to jump," she explained to them.

"What about you and Daddy?" Scott asked.

The acrid smell of smoke filled Kate's lungs. They were running out of time. "We'll be fine." She lied. "You and Alex have to go first. One of the 'chutes caught fire so I have to tie Alex to you, OK?" Her heart broke as Scott nodded yes. She could see the doubt in her son's eyes and was sure he knew she was lying. Scott had always been more perceptive than a child his age had a right to be.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Christopher Summers desperately fought the control stick of the old plane, but to no avail. He wasn't sure what had caused the plane to catch on fire, but he knew it wasn't a mechanical problem. He had thoroughly checked the plane before takeoff. As he listened to Kate talk to Scott, he felt his heart sink. He knew there was no way he could land the plane safely. He dreaded what they would have to do. The idea of pushing his sons off the burning plane did not appeal to him in the slightest, but neither did knowing what would happen if they didn't get the boys off the plane. He finally gave up on the control stick. He looked around for something to wedge into the stick. He spotted Scott's baseball bat by the door and retrieved it. He quickly wedged the stick and, confident the plane wouldn't do a nosedive again, walked out of the cockpit. The plane was still dropping, but he'd managed to slow their rate of descent. Chris walked up behind his wife and gently put a hand on her shoulder.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Kate looked up as her husband laid a hand on her shoulder, then looked back to Scott. She reached up and gently laid a hand to the side of Scott's face, then turned and walked over to her younger son. The small boy jumped into his mother's outstretched arms. "I'm scared, Mommy," he cried as he buried his face into his mother's shoulder.

"I know, Sweetie. I know," she told him, trying not to let her fear show in her voice.

Christopher knelt in front of his oldest son. "No more tears now, son," he said, as fresh tears began to roll slowly down Scott's face. "You're almost seven. You're a big boy now remember? And big boys don't cry." His voice was stern as he spoke.

Scott sniffled, wiped his tears with the sleeve of his coat, and nodded at his father. His face was now a mask of determination and courage that his heart didn't feel. "Yes, sir," Scott said. Then he stood as straight as he could and saluted his father as he had seen the older Summers salute his superior officer.

Christopher stood, returned his son's salute, and then knelt in front of the boy again. He smiled. He had known the ploy would work. Almost since the day he was born, Scott had demanded to be treated like a "big boy". He rarely wanted to be held, wanted to do everything for himself, and had even tried to walk before he'd learned to crawl. Christopher put his hands on Scott's small shoulders, looking straight into the little boy's eyes.

"Listen to me, Scott. I know you're scared and confused, but I need you to be brave for me. Your Mom is going to tie Alex to you, and I need you to hold on to him really, really tight. Don't let go. He's your little brother, Scott. He's just a little boy and not as tough as you. I'm counting on you to take care of him, to keep him safe. Understand?"

Chris loved both his sons equally, but he'd always been closer to Scott. Their shared love of flying created a closeness between the two that Chris didn't feel with his youngest son, who had absolutely no interest in flying. Alex was by no means a wuss, but he was closer to his mother than most boys were. He was also not as tough as Scott and was more likely to cry over things. Alex loved to be carried, especially by his mother, while Scott preferred to walk and was content to simply have his hand held.

Scott nodded as he looked into his father's eyes. "Yes." He could tell his father was struggling to hold back his tears, so he tried harder to maintain his composure. He gasped as Alex grabbed him tightly around his waist and his mother tied a rope around the boys, securing Alex to Scott. He saw his mother's tears start to fall as she and his father both knelt down to face him.

"Do you remember what to do, Scott," Christopher asked.

Scott nodded, "Yes, sir. After we jump I count to ten and then pull the cord."

"That's my boy," he said proudly, ruffling Scott's hair. Then he gently kissed the top of each boy's head.

"We love you, boys," Kate said, as the dam finally broke and the tears rolled freely down her cheeks.

"I love you too," the boys said in unison.

Christopher gave each boy a squeeze on his shoulder then pushed them both out of the plane before either boy could react. Tears began to roll slowly down his cheeks as he watched the boys fall. *God, please take care of them. Please don't let my boys die,* Chris prayed. Then he lost hope as he watched Scott open the parachute. It promptly caught fire, sending the little boys hurtling towards the ground.

Scott looked up at the plane, which was rapidly growing smaller. *Oh no,* he thought as he saw the 'chute catch fire. Then, suddenly, the plane erupted into a ball of flames and smoke. "Mommy, Daddy, NOOOO!" he cried out. He could no longer hold back his tears, and they rolled freely down his cheeks. He didn't care anymore. For once in his young life, Scott didn't want to be a "big boy" anymore. He just wanted to curl up in his Mommy's lap like he did when he was little and scared and have her hold him tight and tell him everything was going to be OK. He felt Alex's grip on him tighten.

Without warning, Scott's world erupted into pain; everything went black as he slammed into the hard ground.

_TBC_

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	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Copyright 11/2000  
Updated 3/12/07  
Word Count: 3507

* * *

Two Months Later

Scott slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh, bright light. He turned his head to his right and saw Alex standing next to him with two women he'd never met before. One wore a nurse's uniform, the other a pair of jeans and a pale blue sweater. Scott wanted to ask them what was happening, and where he was, but he couldn't speak. He tried to move and found he couldn't. He became frightened; his eyes darted wildly around the room.

Alex looked up at Scott and exclaimed, "He's awake!" The small boy instantly ran to him brother's bed and hugged him.

The two women, who'd been talking quietly to each other, looked up and walked to Scott's bed. The nurse began to check his vitals while the other women sat beside him and gently brushed Scott's hair away from his eyes.

"It's okay, Scott," she began, speaking in a soothing tone. "My name is Ms. Branson. You were in an accident and you're in the hospital now. Do you remember what happened? Blink twice for yes."

Scott blinked 'yes', as tears started to form in his eyes. *Yes, I remember,* he thought. *The plane blew up and Mommy and Daddy died.* He willed the tears not to fall, but a single tear escaped and drifted down his cheek.

Ms. Branson wiped the tear away. "It's okay, Scott. Everything is going to be fine. You've been in a coma for almost two months. It's going to take some time for you to recover, but you're going to be okay."

"Ms. Branson, how come Scotty can't talk or move?" Alex asked, fear obvious in his voice.

"He's been through a very traumatic experience, Alex. It's going to take time for him to recover. Come now, it's time to go."

"Okay, but I wanna say goodnight to my brother first," Alex said. He gave Scott another hug. "G'night Scotty, I love you." He then gave Scott a kiss on the cheek and ran to Ms. Branson, who was waiting by the door.

Silent tears rolled down Scott's cheeks as he watched them leave. *I love you too 'Lex. Please don't leave me too.*

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Ms. Branson walked quietly to her car, Alex's small hand clutching her tightly. He was just as quiet as usual, but she was happy to see that the devastated expression that had haunted his young features for the last two months was gone.

She'd talked to Scott's doctor briefly before leaving and was thrilled that the boy's prospects looked good. There was some minor, irreversible brain damage but it was to a nonfunctional part of his brain. They were cautiously optimistic that there would be no complications from the coma and that Scott would be fine with some physical therapy and time.

He would need a few more days in the hospital for observation and to run some more tests. Then he'd be transferred to a local rehabilitation facility.

She sighed as she reached the car. She quickly got Alex situated then climbed into the driver's seat. It would be rough for Scott for the next few months, but he seemed like a strong kid. Ms. Branson was sure he would be just fine.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

I wonder how far Nebraska is from Alaska, Scott thought as he walked up the cement walkway to his new home. He had remained in the hospital for four days then had been transferred to a rehabilitation facility for almost three weeks. After over three weeks of being stuck in a bed for most of the day everyday, it felt good to be up and around again. They'd only let him walk around for a short time each day. When he'd left, they told him he still had to take it easy for a little while. He'd looked the doctor in the face and said, "And sleeping for two months isn't enough rest?"

The doctor had laughed, talked to Ms. Branson while Scott had dressed, then left the room.

He wasn't allowed to run at all for the next few days at least and he was to rest as soon as he started to feel tired. None of which Scott was happy about. How was he supposed to make friends if he couldn't play with other kids? Grownups were okay to talk to, but they didn't do anything _fun_. Besides, it was summer! Summers were made for running around and having fun.

He stared at the huge building in front of him, paying particular attention to the large sign that read: State Home for Foundlings. "What's a foundling, Ms. Branson?" Scott asked the woman holding his hand.

"A foundling is an infant found after its unknown parents have abandoned it," Ms. Branson answered.

"Then why are me and Alex here? We know who our parents are, and they didn't abandon us. They ... they died." Anger and sadness laced his voice. Scott looked up at Ms. Branson as he waited for an answer.

"I know, Scott." Ms. Branson couldn't help but hear the sadness in the little boy's voice, or see it in his young eyes. "When this place was first opened, the children brought here were foundlings. As time passed, more and more children were brought here because their parents died, didn't want them anymore, or simply couldn't care for them. Very few children are left on the doorstep now."

"Oh." Scott stared at the sign a moment longer and then sighed. He followed quietly as Ms. Branson gently pulled him forward and led him into the home. She led him up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. They stopped in front of a room and Scott looked in. It was empty for the moment, but he knew other people lived here. He walked to the center of the room and looked around. Beds lined two of the walls. All of them were made but one. The lone unmade bed was in the corner of the room by the window. Scott walked over to it and put his small bag on it.

Ms. Branson walked over to Scott and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Alex's bed is right there next to yours," she paused as she pointed to the bed directly to the right of Scott's, then she walked to what looked like a closet with doors. "And this is where you'll keep your clothes and anything you don't want stolen." She took a key attached to a chain from her pocket and handed it to Scott. "Make sure you don't lose this, Scott." She looked at her watch then said, "The other children are at lunch right now, but I'll send Alex up when he's done eating. He can explain the rules to you. I'll send a clean set of sheets up with him. Do you prefer blue or green?"

Scott looked up at Ms. Branson for the first time since they'd entered the room. "Blue," he answered in a low voice. Reality seemed to be crashing down around him. They're really dead. They're really, really, dead. This isn't a dream. No more bedtime stories. No more plane rides. No more Mommy. No more Daddy. Tears welled behind Scott's eyes, but he willed them not to fall. He was a big boy now and big boys don't cry. No matter how much his heart was breaking, he wouldn't give in.

Ms. Branson gave Scott a gentle squeeze on his shoulder then left. Alone in the big, military barracks style room; Scott walked to the closet on the right side of his bed, unlocked it, and opened the doors. There was a bar going across the top with a few empty hangers. The bottom contained a two-drawer dresser. Scott turned back to his small bag and opened it. He sighed as he looked inside it. Like I have much worth stealing, he thought sadly. He sniffled a little then set upon the small task of unpacking.

After signing Scott out of the hospital, Ms. Branson had taken him to McDonalds for lunch then to Wal-Mart to buy him some new clothes. He now had the bare basics of a wardrobe, a coat, sneakers, and the blue duffel bag that held the new items. He'd picked out his new clothes carefully. On the hangers, Scott hung the three pairs of jeans, two blue and one black, his blue polo shirt with Mickey Mouse on it, and his coat. He opened the bottom drawer, placed a T-shirt with a jet on it, a plain gray long sleeve shirt, a blue sweater with a big jet on it, and two pairs of pajamas (one with planes on it, the other red and blue with a big Superman symbol on the chest) in and closed it.

He opened the top drawer and pulled the pack of underwear out of the bag, opened it, and placed the five pairs of new underwear in the drawer. Then he did the same with the pack of white t-shirts. Next to them, he put the five pairs of socks. He took off his new pair of blue and white high tops and placed them on the top shelf. It wasn't much, but Ms. Branson had promised to take him shopping again in a few days when she had more time and he was feeling stronger. She said he could pick out another pair of jeans, a pair of dress pants, shoes, and some more shirts.

Having completely unpacked the clothes, Scott flopped on the bed and pulled the bag up next to him. After picking out Scott's clothes, Ms. Branson had gone to go to the Health and Beauty Aid section and Scott had looked at the books. He'd walked up and down the aisles until one book caught his attention: "A Brief History of Flight: From Balloons to Mach 3 and Beyond" by T. A. Heppenheimer. Ms. Branson had walked up from behind him, startling him.

"You like planes don't you," she'd asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he'd answered politely, as his parents had taught him.

He'd started to put the book back on the shelf when, much to his surprise, she asked, "Would you like to have that book, Scott?"

He had stared at her in surprise and answered, "Yes, ma'am."

Scott now rolled on his back and opened the book. He was halfway through the first chapter when he heard Alex's voice.

"Scotty! I missed ya!" The smaller Summers boy ran to his brother, who was now sitting up. He dropped the sheets and pillow Ms. Branson had given him for Scott onto the bed, and threw him self at his big brother. The two boys fell back on to the bed with Alex on top of Scott.

Scott laughed at the goofy expression on his little brother's face and said, "It's only been a week since ya saw me last, Lex."

"I know, but I still missed ya."

"I missed you too, now get off of me," Scott said, giving Alex a light push.

Alex rolled with the push and flopped on the bed next to Scott. "That's a neat looking book, Scotty."

Scott closed the book. "Yeah, it's pretty cool. Ms. Branson bought it for me when we got my new clothes today."

"Cool. I guess I better tell you the rules now. First, you have to write your name in all your clothes so the laundry people know which room to bring them to. There's a big hamper in the corner." Alex pointed to a large white wicker basket in the far corner. "That's where you put your clothes when you change. Lights out is eight-thirty. If you get caught out of the room, or making any noise, after that you get in trouble. Most of the time they just don't let you watch TV for a while or they don't let you play outside for a day or two. No eating or drinking in the room and you gotta make your bed everyday when they wake you up for breakfast. There's no running in the building and no fighting. Umm, I guess that's pretty much it. I'll tell you if I remember anything else later."

The two boys sat quietly for a minute then Alex suddenly jumped up and ran to his own locker. He unlocked it, pulled out a thick book, and ran back to Scott's bed. He plopped on the bed and handed it to Scott. "This is what I got for my birthday. Well, actually, it's not the only thing I got. I just like this the bestest."

Scott looked at the book; it was 'The Brothers Grimm'. Scott knew it had been Alex's favorite book. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday, Alex, but they wouldn't let me out of the rehabilitation center in time," Scott said sadly. Alex's birthday had been four days earlier. Scott had begged anyone who would listen to let him out early so he could be there for his brother, but they had all refused.

"It's best if you stay a few more days," they all said.

"'S'okay, Scott. I know it's not your fault." Alex took the book back and stared at the cover. He opened it up and flipped through the pages until he found the story he was looking for, The Elves. "This my favorite story in the whole book."

"I know." Scott smiled as he looked at the page. There were actually three stories with that title in the book. Scott knew because it was the same book their parents had brought for Alex on his second birthday. Their mother read to Alex from it every night. When Scott learned how to read, Alex had often begged his older brother to read to him when their parents were too busy. "You used to bug me, Mom, or Dad to read the stories to you all the time." Scott looked up from the page to Alex's face.

"I remember." Alex said, then his face suddenly dropped into a frown and his lower lip began to quiver. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to fall at any moment.

"What's the matter, 'Lex?" Scott asked.

"I miss Mommy and Daddy. I don't want them to be dead, Scotty. I want them alive." The dam broke with those words and the tears flowed freely down the small boy's cheeks. He threw his arms around Scott's neck and sobbed uncontrollably. "It's not fair!" The words caught in Alex's chest as he cried harder.

Scott hugged Alex tightly, willing his own tears not to fall. "I know, Alex. I miss them too. I don't want them to be dead either, but there's nothing we can do about that. Please stop crying." Scott prayed Alex would stop. If he didn't, Scott knew he'd start crying soon as well. He held onto Alex as his younger brother's sobs grew quiet. After a few minutes, Alex broke the hug and sat back.

"Thanks, Scotty. Sorry I cried on your new shirt." Alex sniffled then wiped his eyes with his own shirt.

"S'okay, 'Lex. Come here." Alex scooted close to Scott again, and Scott gave his brother another hug. He wiped the rest of the tears from Alex's eyes, then reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small packet of tissues. He took a few out and handed them to Alex. "Here, blow your nose."

Alex took the offered tissues and blew his nose. Then he took the tissues over to a small wastebasket in the corner of the room and threw them in. He walked back over to Scott's bed, sat on it, and picked the book back up. "Read to me, Scott. Please." Alex looked at Scott with pleading eyes that threatened more tears.

"Sure, Little Brother, but first help me make the bed." The two brothers quickly made the bed. Scott took the book and positioned himself on the bed so that his back was against the headboard with the pillow behind him. Alex laid next to Scott with his head on Scott's shoulder.

"The Elves story first." Alex said, flipping through the pages until he found the story again.

"I kinda figured that," Scott said, then began reading.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

"Which one now?" No answer. Scott glanced down at his brother. Alex was sound asleep, snoring softly. Scott smiled as he looked at his little brother. He closed the book and laid it gently on the floor.

Someone cleared their throat. The noise startled Scott and he looked up at the doorway to the room. A tall, husky, dark haired boy was leaning on the doorframe.

"Well, ain't this a cozy little scene," the boy said sarcastically. He noticed the dried tears on Alex's face and said, "So what was the little whiner cryin' about now? He missing his Mommy and Daddy again?" The boy made a mock crying face as he held his fists in front of his eyes, turning them.

Anger built in Scott, but he kept himself calm. "He is not a whiner; he's just a little kid. Yeah, he misses 'em. What's it to you?"

"Chill, I was just teasing. What are you, his guarding angel or somethin?"

"No, I'm his brother, Scott."

"Oh yeah, I remember the little whiner talking about his big brother and how great he is. You don't look so great to me." The older boy grinned menacingly at Scott. "My name's David. I'm twelve. Ive been here since I was born."

The boy started to say something else but Scott cut him off. "So what? Does that make you special or something?" Scott made his remark as sarcastic as possible.

David just widened his smile. "No, Punk. You keep up those smart remarks and I'll make ya a permanent part of the wall. Just thought I'd let ya know I'm in charge around here. You mess with me and I'll make ya regret it. Just ask whiner there," David pointed to Alex, "he'll tell ya."

"What did you do to him?" The anger became obvious on Scott's face as he stared at the older boy.

David was about to make another sarcastic remark when he heard a noise behind him. Suddenly, Ms. Branson appeared behind him.

"Is there a problem here, boys?" she asked. David smiled as sweet a smile as he could manage. He then turned to face Ms. Branson.

"Why no, Ms. Branson," he said sweetly. "I was just introducing myself to Scott."

Ms. Branson said nothing as she looked down at the boy skeptically. She looked to Scott. "Are you getting settled in okay, Scott?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm doing fine."

Ms. Branson stared at Scott for a moment then looked back to David. She looked like she wanted to say more. Without another word, she turned and left.

David stared at Scott a few moments longer, then in a lowered voice said, "Watch your back." With that, he turned and left.

Scott sighed with relief as the bully left. *Good one, Scott. Way to start your first day. That kid's about three times bigger than you.* He sighed again and gently slid his arm from underneath Alex. I need some fresh air. He opened his locker, pulled out his sweater and sneakers. Dressing quickly, he walked out of the room leaving the still sleeping Alex on his bed. He decided it would be a good time to take a walk around outside.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott took a deep breath as he sat on a bench by a picnic table. He'd walking around for over an hour, familiarizing himself with the orphanage's grounds. He was sitting quietly, thinking, when someone suddenly put a hand on his shoulder. Startled, Scott jumped up and whirled around to face the person. A blond haired boy, only a little smaller than himself, stared at him.

The boy stuck out his hand. "Hi, name's Nathaniel."

Scott shook the boy's hand. "Scott."

"Yeah, I know. So, heard ya had a run-in with our resident jerk, David."

"How'd you know about that?" Scott asked, looking at Nathaniel suspiciously.

"It's a small place. Word gets around pretty quick around here. David's just a jackass. He thinks just because he's the biggest kid here that makes him the boss. He thinks he's soooo tough." Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "I'd watch out for him though, 'specially when he's with his buddies, Dean, Lance, and Frank. They like to hit people."

Scott stared at Nathaniel. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about Nathaniel that Scott didn't like. I think I'll avoid you too if I can. Scott thought to himself.

"Come on; let's go play with the new computer. I'll show ya some cool stuff."

"Uh, no thanks. I gotta go check on Alex. He's my kid brother."

"I know. Like I said," Nathaniel added as he saw the surprise on Scott's face. "It's a small place."

"Yeah, right. Bye." Scott said and quickly walked away before Nathaniel could say anything else. That dude is really weird, Scott thought to himself. I'm definitely stayin' away from him.

Nathaniel watched as Scott walked into the orphanage. "On the contrary, Scott," he said in a low, sinister voice. "You and I will be spending a lot of time together." He chuckled softly as he walked into the building.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Copyright 11/2000  
Updated 3/25/2008  
Word Count: 4,951

Rating: I'm going with a PG 13 rating for this part. Rampant cursing and a SOB who thinks he has a right to kick the crap out of anyone he chooses, including a seven-year-old boy, in this chapter. If that kinda thing bothers you ...stop reading this now.

Still here? ...Great!

* * *

Scott sat stiffly in his chair. He didn't know for sure why Ms Branson had called him into her office, but he had a bad feeling it had something to do with Alex. The Blandings had been coming to see Alex a lot recently. The sadness in her eyes did nothing to ease his apprehension.

Knowing Scott appreciated directness, Ms. Branson didnt beat around the bush. "The Blandings are adopting Alex."

For a split second his hopes soared, then came crashing back down. "Just Alex."

It was not a question but she answered him anyway. "Yes. They're picking him up on Saturday."

"But that's only three days from now," Scott protested. Tears formed and he willed them not to fall. "Are they going to let me see him anymore?"

Ms. Branson took a deep breath. "I think so. They seemed open to the idea. You know we cant force them to, though, right?"

"I guess." Scott stood up and walked to the door. He paused for a moment then turned to look at Ms. Branson.

"Did they say why they don't want me?"

Ms. Branson hesitated. She didn't want Scott to be hurt anymore than he already was, but he deserved the truth. "I'm sorry, Scott; they said you're a sweet boy they just don't think they can deal with the problems caused by your brain damage."

"But it's just some headaches sometimes. It didn't seem to bother them the first couple of times they came over. Why did they change their minds?"

"I wish I knew, Scott. The fact is, and I think you know this already, most people don't understand what non-functional means when it comes to the human brain. They aren't willing to look past label. I know this is hard for you Scott, but it's for the best. Even without the brain damage, it's difficult to place more than one child in a permanent home. Most people can only afford to take in one child, and the people who could possibly take more only want one child."

"What you mean is, they don't want a freak for a kid. They just want the normal one."

"You are not a freak, Scott." Ms. Branson sighed. *Why did this have to be so damn hard?* "The Blandings are good people. They'll take good care of Alex. He deserves a chance at finding a family."

Scott glared at her. "He already _has_ a family."

Ms. Branson sighed. "You know what I mean. Please, try to understand. This is for the best."

He didn't understand, but he realized there was nothing he could do about it. He was just a kid. "Yes, ma'am." That said he walked out of the office letting the door slam behind him.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

"Lemme go, lemme go," Alex cried, as he pulled away from the women who held his hand. As soon as he was free, Alex ran back to Scott. He threw his arms around Scott's waist, hugging him tightly, and buried his face in his big brother's shirt. "I don't want to go with them, Scotty! Please don't let them take me."

Scott hugged Alex tightly, fighting back his own tears. He'd only been here a few weeks and now they were taking Alex away from him! He didn't want to let Alex go, but he knew what he had to do. He took a deep breath and held Alex at arms length. Then, he knelt to Alex's level. "I know you don't, 'Lex," he started, wiping the tears from his brother's face. He held up a tissue. "Blow," he said. Alex blew his nose and Scott continued. "I don't like it either, but you have to go. These people are gonna take care of you now." Scott pointed to a young couple standing not far from them, by a car.

"NO! I don' want to go," Alex said stubbornly. "You're my brother. YOU took care of me. You ALWAYS take care of me, even before Mommy an' Daddy died. I want to stay with you!" Alex cried. "You _promised_," he whispered. He broke Scott's grip on his shoulders and threw his arms around his older brother's waist again.

Scott took another deep breath. He didn't want to let Alex go, but he didn't have a choice. He pushed Alex to arm's length again. "Stop it, Alex!" he said sternly "Just stop it! You're four years old, now. You're not a little baby anymore, so stop bawlin' like one. You're a big boy now, remember? Just like me. I know I promised, Alex, but there's _nothing_ I can do." Scott stared at Alex, pleading with him to believe what he said.

Alex sniffled, "Scotty ..._please_...." he began again, choking on his tears.

Scott felt his heart breaking. He wanted to grab Alex right then and there and run away, but he knew that wasn't a good idea. They had no money, nowhere to go, and his headaches were getting worse and more frequent. At least with the Blandings Alex would have good food, nice clothes, and a real bed to sleep in.

Alex sniffled again, but this time he nodded.

Scott took another tissue from his pocket and wiped away Alex's tears. "Then, stop crying. Big boys don't cry." His voice was gentler as he spoke this time. "We'll see each other again, I promise, but you have to go with these people now. I'll call and write to you a lot. I'm sure they will read you the letters." As Scott looked up though, he wasn't so sure. The man had his arms crossed in front of his chest. The woman had her hands on her hips and was tapping her foot. Both had impatient expressions.

Scott looked back to Alex. "Promise me you'll listen to your new parents like you listen to me. Promise me you'll write me back as soon as you learn how."

Alex sniffled once again. "I promise," he said, trying to be as brave as his big brother. Scott's grip loosened and Alex hugged him again. "I'm gonna miss you, Scotty. I love you."

"I'll miss you too 'Lex. I love you." Scott gave Alex one last tight squeeze, then gently pushed his little brother away.

Alex was still crying softly as he waved good-bye to Mrs. Branson and the kids who'd come to see him off, then turned and walked over to the car. "I'm ready to go, now," he said sadly.

The women smiled at him and ruffled his hair. "Good. We'll stop and get some lunch then do some shopping for new clothes and toys. After that, we'll go home and meet youre new sister. She'll be home from school by then. How does that sound?"

"Fine, ma'am," Alex muttered.

The woman opened the car door, picked Alex up, and strapped him into a car seat. "You're going to love you're new home, Alex. We have a big house with a huge yard and a dog! Your sister is very eager to meet you," she said as she got into her seat and fastened her seat belt.

Alex said nothing, but covered his eyes with his small hands and let his tears fall freely.

Scott knew Alex couldn't see him, but he waved until the car was out of sight. The other kids followed Mrs. Branson back into the orphanage, but Scott stayed outside. He walked to the curb and stared at the long road. After a few moments, he sat on the curb and cried. *Goodbye Alex,* he thought to himself. *I love you. Please, don't forget me.*

Scott didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when he heard a voice behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder. He wiped his eyes and nose on his shirtsleeve as he looked up.

"Come on, Scott," Ms. Branson said gently. "It's time to go in now. You'll catch a cold if you stay out here any longer." She handed the boy a tissue, and a sweater then stuck out her hand.

Scott hadn't noticed the drop in temperature or that the sky was beginning to darken. He stood up, shivering slightly, and rubbed his arms. Once he was standing, he accepted the tissue and sweater. He blew his nose, put on the sweater, took the offered hand, and walked quietly back towards the orphanage.

"Don't worry, Scott. Everything will work out. You'll see. Everything will be OK."

Scott nodded, but he wasn't so sure.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Ms. Branson sighed as another couple stalked out of her office, slamming the door behind them.

The couple brushed hurriedly past the orphanage's director, Mr. Johnson, as he walked to Ms. Branson's office. He knocked on the door. Upon hearing Ms. Branson's muffled call for him to come in, he opened the door and entered.

"Let me guess," he began. "They brought back Scott Summers."

Ms. Branson nodded sadly. "No one will give him a chance. He's only seven years old. He's still so young." Prospective parents seemed to understand that the brain damage caused him to have headaches at times, but they assumed it was also why he was so quiet. They didn't understand - didn't even want to hear - that the brain damage had nothing to do with why he was quiet. He had been a little withdrawn when he first came to the orphanage, and became more so when Alex had been adopted, but he had still been fairly sociable. When Alex's new parents had restricted contact between the two boys (only allowing them to talk on the phone once a week) only two weeks after the adoption, Scott had become even more quiet and withdrawn. His headaches had also become much more severe. The stress and anguish of failed foster home attempts weren't helping him any.

"I called the Blandings yesterday. Apparently, they talked to Scott when he called Alex. He won't tell me exactly what they said, but I've never seen such a hurt or sad expression on that little boy's face. I tried to get them to let the boys stay in touch more. I told them how much this separation is hurting Scott, and probably Alex as well. They disagreed. They said they thought it'd be better for Alex this way, that he needs to accept that he has a new family now. I think they want Alex to forget that he even has a brother." She sighed and paused for a moment. "I just don't understand it. All Scott wants is to be a part of his little brother's life. He's already lost his parents; he doesn't want to lose Alex too. He shouldn't have to."

Mr. Johnson listened quietly to Ms. Branson, not speaking until she finished. "I know. It is very unfair, but the fact remains that they legally adopted Alex. There's nothing we can do. I also tried to contact the Blandings and got the same response you did. We can't force them to let Scott and Alex see each other. Alex is their son now. Like it or lump it." Maybe I made a mistake, he thought after he'd finished speaking. When they first came here, they seemed thrilled about the idea of taking both boys. Why did they suddenly change their minds about Scott?

Ms. Branson sighed deeply then got up from her desk. "I know, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Neither do I, Ms. Branson. Neither do I." That said, he walked out of her office.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

*Stupid jerk!* Scott Summers thought to himself. *It's not my fault. I didn't _ask_ for any of this. Not for my parents to die, not be left in this orphanage, not to have Alex taken away from me, and _not_ for these damn headaches.* The boy grew angrier as he walked. *What the Hell does that moron know anyway? Asshole didn't have to kick me!* Scott unconsciously rubbed the unseen bruise on his back. The whole five days he'd been with the Carpenters had been miserable.

At first, he hadn't thought it would be so bad. Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter had said he could call them by their first names and they'd bought him ice cream on the way to their home. By the end of the first day, he had realized that he was very wrong. Mick Carpenter was a harsh, mean bastard. Each morning, he'd dragged Scott out of bed at six thirty to toss around a football or baseball.

It wouldn't have been so bad really. It would have actually been quite fun except that Mick wasn't satisfied with a simple game of catch. He yelled through the whole thing. When Scott missed the ball, Mick called him an idiot and a sissy, as well as every other name he could think of. When Scott caught it, which he usually did, Mick merely mumbled good or criticized how he caught it.

Jane Carpenter was entirely too cheerful and ignored the fact that Mr. Carpenter was an overbearing, abusive, jackass. She always smiled, even when her husband was complaining about something she'd cooked wrong or hadn't cleaned properly. She would re-iron his clothes or completely re-cook a meal if he didn't like the way she'd done it the first time.

At first, Scott had felt sorry for Jane, but by the end of the third day that pity was gone. She actually believed wholeheartedly that he had a right to treat her like dirt simply because they were married and he was a man! Mom never would have let anyone treat her like that. Dad would _never_ have lifted a hand to Mom or talked to her the way Mick does to his wife, Scott had thought to himself as he'd gone to bed that third night.

Scott's stay was actually supposed to be for a week, but had ended abruptly this morning. He'd had a few minor headaches through the first four days, but nothing major. This morning however, he'd gotten out of bed and headed down the stairs for breakfast when a major headache started out of nowhere. He'd collapsed on the kitchen floor, holding his head and moaning in agony. Mrs. Carpenter had tried to help him, but couldn't. She'd gone to get him some Tylenol and a glass of water when Mick had come into the kitchen. Scott shuddered as the scene replayed in his mind.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Mick walked into the kitchen, took one look at Scott lying on the floor and snorted in disgust. "What's the matter with you, boy," he asked, as he sat at the table and started eating his breakfast.

"My head hurts real bad," Scott somehow managed to reply.

That got him another snort from Mick. "It can't be that bad boy. Get up now and eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

Scott honestly tried to get up, but even the slightest movement caused the pain in his head to get worse.

Mick got angry. "I said get up now you little wuss."

When Scott still wasn't able to get up, Mick got angrier. He stood up and walked over to Scott. "Jane slaved over a hot stove to cook you a nice hot breakfast you ungrateful little bastard, so get up and eat NOW!"

Scott moaned and brought his hands to his ears. Mick's yelling was making his headache worse. He planted his hands firmly on the kitchen floor and attempted to get up. Pain thundered through his head, and his hands instantly went back to clutching his head. Tears began to form in the little boys eyes as the pain steadily got worse. "Please, stop yelling," he whimpered.

Mick's eyes flared with anger. "Are you telling me what to do boy? You don't tell me what to do! I tell you! Now, get your little pansy ass up and eat before I show you the meaning of the word hurt!"

The tears flowed freely down Scott's cheeks as his body trembled with pain and fear. He made one last ditch effort to get up, but it was useless. He couldn't get up.

Jane came back into the kitchen after finally finding the Tylenol in the upstairs bathroom. For the first time since Scott had met her, she wasn't smiling. "He's just a little boy, Mick, you're scaring him. Yelling won't help." She looked fearful as her husband glared at her.

"Stay outta this woman! It's time this BOY learned to be a MAN!" Without warning, Mick lashed out with a fierce kick that connected with Scott's lower back. The boy cried out in pain, and Mick lashed out again. "Shut up and take it like a man," he yelled.

"Mick, please stop," Jane begged. "He's just a little boy. It's not his fault." Mick lashed out and backhanded her. Her hand flew up to her cheek in shock. Mick had been cruel to her many times in the past, but this is the first time he had ever struck her. She had never seen such anger in her husband's eyes, and it frightened her.

"I said stay out of this," he screamed. "Or I'll give you what I'm gonna give him."

Jane sobbed into her hands and ran to her bedroom.

"I said, get up now, Boy, or you'll get it even worse!" Without giving the sobbing boy a chance to even try, he lashed out with an even more vicious kick to Scott's back. The boy cried out again as the pain increased, but he remained on the floor. Mick reached down with both hands and lifted Scott into the air. "You are the biggest NANCY BOY I've ever met," he yelled into Scott's face. "Stop crying, baby!" he added as he shook Scott violently. "Christ, what was I thinking when I let Jane talk me into bringing you here. No wonder you've been brought back so many times. That little friend of yours told me all about you. No one wants a little NANCY BOY like you for a son! You're going back. I'm gonna get a real boy, not a crybaby, wimp like you!" Mick threw Scott over his shoulder and stormed up the stairs.

Mick threw Scott roughly onto the bed. The boy instantly curled his small body into a tight ball. "I gotta go to work with no breakfast now thanks to you! You'd better have your shit packed and be ready to go by the time I get back!" Scott curled into a tighter ball and cried himself to sleep. Mick gave the boy one last disgusted look, than stomped off to his own room.

Jane looked up teary eyed as her husband stormed into their bedroom. "We're takin' him back! Make sure that runt is packed and ready to go by the time I get home from work," he said angrily, as he turned to leave. Suddenly, he turned back and added, "Next time, I pick the kid." Then, he left the bedroom, slamming the door on the way out.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott shook his head as the memory faded. True to his word, as soon as Mick got home at four o'clock, he'd stormed into the house, dragged Scott out, and threw the boy and his suitcase into the back seat of his car. When they got to the home, Mick had grabbed the boy by his much too slender arms and threatened him. "If you tell anyone what happened, I'll...." His voice had trailed off as he leaned close to Scott and whispered in the boy's ear. Scott's eyes went wide in fear. "Got it?" Mick had asked. Scott nodded.

The Carpenters went into the home. They followed Ms. Branson to her office while Scott took his bag to his room, threw it on his bed, and went outside. "Dumb fuck," Scott muttered as he rubbed his sore back.

"You really should watch your mouth, Scott," he muttered to himself. "Mom would have a conniption fit if she heard you. You'd be suckin' on a soap bar for a week. Dad would kick your butt and give a nice long lecture on why you aren't supposed to say those words." A sinister voice in the back of his mind seemed to take sadistic pleasure in adding, *But Mommy and Daddy aren't here anymore are they? No, they're as dead as can be now. No one cares about you. No one loves you.* Scott pushed the voice to the back of his mind, blocking it out.

Scott stopped as he reached his destination. His thoughts shifted to Alex as he climbed up his and Alex's favorite tree. Like every time he saw it, Scott couldn't help but wonder how old the tall oak was. *This tree is really, really old. Probably older than ...Dad,* Scott thought to himself. He starred in awe at the tree, looking more like the little boy he was, and less like the man he so desperately tried to be. It never lasted though. As he climbed up the tall tree, his thoughts turned back to Alex again.

*I miss you, Alex,* he thought as he reached their favorite branch and sat down, leaning against the thick tree trunk. *Nobody wants me. I didn't _want_ to cry. I _tried_ to get up, but it just hurt so much. What if Mick was right? What if I am just a....* Scott paused as he tries to remember the word Mick used, ...*a Nancy Boy? Whatever that means. I don't want to stay here forever, Lex. Dave and his little jerk buddies keep picking on me, and picking fights with me and Nathaniel. One of these days, I'll learn to stay out of it when those two get into it. When will Nathaniel learn to keep his big mouth shut around Dave?*

Still caught up in his thoughts, Scott didn't see the small brown-haired boy approaching. *Why are the Blandings being such . . . jerks? I just want to talk to you more than once a week. Maybe even actually see you once in a while. They act like I'm gonna snatch you in the middle of the night and run away or something.* Scott felt the tears well up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He heard a noise below him and looked down. Aw man, not him ... not _now_. Scott groaned as he saw the boy that had disturbed his thoughts.

"What do you want, Nathaniel?" Scott asked as he climbed down the tree. He didn't hate Nathaniel; not really, he just didn't like the boy much. He was nosey, pushy, and an all around pain-in-the-butt. He also had a knack for getting himself, and Scott, into trouble with the older boys like Dave.

"Oh, nothing in particular. I was bored and I heard you were back early ...again. So, I thought I'd come say hi, and see why these people dropped ya off early. Same as last time huh? That makes what ...six times in a little over a month?"

Scott sighed, jumping from the lowest branch and landing on his feet. "Nine. Nine times," he answered. Nine times Scott had gone to stay with a family, and nine times he'd been brought back. Only once had he stayed as long as he was supposed to. That had been a three-day weekend visit last month. That was also one of the few visits where he hadn't been either hit, cursed at, or just plain ignored. For a moment, he'd let his hopes be raised that maybe, just maybe, they'd want him forever. But that wasn't to be. He'd snuck into Ms. Branson's office and hid in the closet, hoping against hope that the nice young couple would want him.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott quietly opened the small hidden door in Ms. Branson's office. He'd discovered it about two months ago, and as far as he knew, no one else knew about it. Not even Ms. Branson. He was careful not to bump anything or make any noise as he listened to the grown-ups talk.

He liked this couple. Theirs was the fourth home in two weeks that he'd visited. It was the only one hed honestly liked. The Coopers were nice to him. They didn't curse at him like some the others had, or hit him like a few of the others had. They also didn't get angry when he had one of his bad headaches. They had a nice house with a big back yard and a dog! A German shepherd they named Cookie because she used to steal cookies from people as a puppy.

"He's a very quiet, very polite boy, Ms. Branson," Mrs. Cooper began, "but we just don't think it would work out."

"Scott has some ...issues ...we just don't think we're qualified to handle," Mr. Cooper added. "He really is a very nice little boy, and we did enjoy his visit, but we feel we'd do better with a child that hasn't had such tragedies in his life. We really hope you find a good home for Scott. It just can't be our home."

Scott held his tears back as he listened to them talk. Just as quietly as he had entered, Scott left the office. He ran to his and Alex's tree, climbed to their favorite spot, and let the dam burst. He cried for only a minute, then wiped the tears away and forced himself to regain control of his emotions. *Come on Scott, stop crying like a little baby. You didn't really think they'd want to keep you, did you? Just 'cuz they're the only people who took you home with them and actually acted like they actually _wanted_ you since you came to this crummy place. It doesn't mean they'd actually want to keep you forever,* he thought bitterly.

*Three months! Three months I've been here, and I've been to about a million homes, and none of those people wanted me.* The actual number was nowhere near a million, but it sure felt that way to the lonely little boy. *What made me think these people would be any different? Just 'cuz they were nice to me and brought me ice cream, and let me stay up late and help take Cookie for a walk. Just 'cuz Mr. Cooper didn't call me a baby and curse at me like some of the others, or hit me like a few did. Just 'cuz Mrs. Cooper let me lick the spatula after she mixed the cake and didn't get mad when I got one of my bad headaches and dropped her glass mixing bowl. Just 'cuz they were just really, really nice, I shouldn'ta thought they'd actually want to make me their forever son.*

"There you are." Mr. Cooper called up to Scott.

Scott climbed quickly down the tree. He felt his hopes start to rise again. Did they change their minds? Please, please let them have changed their minds, he prayed. His hopes were once again dashed as he reached the ground.

Mrs. Cooper gave him a quick hug. "We've been looking all over for you. We wanted to say good-bye before we left. We really enjoyed having you stay with us, Scott, but we can't take you back home."

Tears formed in Mrs. Cooper's eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Maybe we're making this decision to quickly, she thought. Maybe we should take him for another visit and try a little harder to help him. As quickly as that thought went through her mind, another one entered. No, we just can't handle a boy like him. She was puzzled for a moment. It was almost as if that last thought wasn't her own, as if it had been planted in her mind. She pushed that notion aside though as her husband began to talk to the boy.

"We're sorry, Scott, we just don't think it will work out. It's not your fault. Do you understand?"

*Oh yeah,* Scott thought, I understand. *You want a nice, normal little boy, not one with a screwed-up head.* Scott wanted to be angry with them. He wanted to hate them just like he did the others, but he couldn't. They'd been too nice to him, and though he was only a kid, he could tell it hadn't been an easy decision for them. He nodded yes.

Mr. Cooper gave the boy a quick, hug then stood up. "Good."

Scott put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small plastic figure of a German shepherd dog. "Do you want this back?" he asked, a slight quiver in his chin. They'd stopped at Wal-Mart on the way to the Cooper home on the first day, to pick up a few things. On the way to the hardware department, they passed the toys and the figure had caught Scott's eye. It reminded him of a dog he barely remembered that his grandparents had had.

"Do you like that?" Mrs. Cooper had asked. Scott had nodded.

"Then it's yours." Mr. Cooper had said and they had bought it for him. Scott sighed quietly at the memory.

Mrs. Cooper knelt in front of Scott again. "No, Honey. We bought it just for you," she said as she closed his hand around the plastic dog. "Good-bye, Scott." She hugged the small boy again then stood.

"Good-bye, Scott," Mr. Cooper said as he gave Scott's shoulder a squeeze.

"Good-bye," Scott whispered as they walked away. The tears threatened to fall again, but he refused to let them.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott glared at Nathaniel as the boy knocked on Scott's head several times and said, "Hello, Earth to Scott, anyone home?"

"Knock it off, Nathaniel."

"Hey, it's not my fault you were off in La La Land. So, that makes, like, twenty-five times since you got here, huh? I think that's some kinda record."

"Yeah," Scott answered, pushing a lock of brown hair out of his face. "Something like that. Look, Nathaniel, I just want to be alone right now, okay?" Scott walked away without waiting for an answer. He headed for the orphanage.

A strange smile crossed Nathaniel's face as he watched Scott walk away. "Yes, Scott Summers," an inhuman voice whispered. "I'll leave you alone ...for now."

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Copyright: 3/01  
Updated: 3/26/2008  
Word Count: 4,240

* * *

Scott stretched as he sat up in his bed. His body was sore and stiff. *I swear, one of these days I'm gonna get Nathaniel. Then we'll see how eager he is to shoot off that big mouth of his.* Scott had gotten into five fights last week, four because of something Nathaniel had said. The other time was because one of the other kids had called him (Scott) a freak and a crybaby because of his headaches. The four Nathaniel had instigated had, of course, been with boys bigger than Scott. He'd lost those fights.

Of course, the freaky nightmares he'd been having almost since he'd arrived at the home didn't help anything.

The only good thing about the fights was, when Ms. Branson saw the bruises on his back, she assumed they were from the fights. He hadn't told anyone about what Mick had done to him. Mick's threat echoed through his mind as he thought about that day. "If you ever tell anyone I gave you those bruises, boy, I'll kill your kid brother while you watch. After that, I'll kill you. It won't be a quick death either. You just keep your goddamn mouth shut. You got it?" Scott shivered. He believed Mick. The look in the man's eyes that day would have been enough to scare even the biggest man.

Scott stretched again and got up. He dressed quickly and went into the bathroom. He sighed as he looked in the mirror. The last fight had been three days ago and he still had a large bruise on his left cheek from it. There were several other bruises on his face but they, at least, were fading. He brushed his hair, put the brush back in his locker, and then went down to the dinning room for breakfast.

Nathaniel waved when he saw Scott. "Come on, I saved you a seat," he called as he patted the seat next to him.

*Great,* Scott thought to himself. *Why the Hell can't he ever take a hint and leave me alone?* Scott had done everything he could to avoid Nathaniel and tell the boy he didn't want to be friends, without actually coming out and saying it. Somehow, Nathaniel had gotten the impression that he and Scott were best friends. Scott sighed and sat next to Nathaniel.

Scott finished his breakfast quickly and went outside hoping Nathaniel wouldn't follow him. No such luck.

"Wait up, Scott," Nathaniel shouted as he ran and caught up with Scott. "A guy'd think you were trying to avoid him the way you took off like that."

"I was," Scott said matter-of-factually. He kept walking, picking up his pace.

Nathaniel chuckled and matched Scott's pace. "What, you mad at me or something?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Scott stopped and turned to Nathaniel, his face almost red with anger. "Why? You want to know why?" Scott asked in disbelief. "Look at my face Nathaniel. My whole body is sore. I got my ass kicked four times last week because you can't keep your big mouth shut. I really don't want to start out this week the same way. Why did you tell those guys those lies anyway? In the six months I've been here, I've gotten beat up more times than I can count for defending you when those creeps pick on you. I'm the only one who even talks to you."

"I was only kidding, Scott. It's not my fault those jerks can't take a joke. Besides, David really is a big, ugly, jackass. You did say that."

"No, YOU said that. That's not joking, Nathaniel."

"Yeah, I did say that, didn't I? Oh, well. You told Ms. Branson when she asked about the bruises, and she said that he's been punished for it."

Two of the fights had been with David, the other two with two other boys. David and the other boys had been restricted to their room for a month; they were only allowed outside for one hour each day. They also lost all other privileges for a month. They had told Ms. Branson that Scott had started the fights, but she hadn't believed them. All three of the boys were known for starting fights.

"That's not the point. I have enough trouble with David already; I _don't_ need you making more. Just stop telling them crap like that. I mean it, Nathaniel." Scott started walking again. After a few steps, he turned towards Nathaniel, who had started to follow him again, "And stay away from me. I'm tired of you following me around all the time. I want to be alone for a while."

"Sure, Scott." Nathaniel said. He smiled evilly as he turned and walked towards the orphanage. *Soon, Scott,* he thought to himself, *Soon, you _will_ be mine.*

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott sat quietly in his favorite spot in his tree, watching the other kids play. Some were playing baseball, some basketball, and some freeze tag. A small group of boys played jacks, a small group of girls were jumping rope, and few kids played on the jungle gym. They never asked him to play anymore. Not even the ones who'd been nice to him when he'd first got there. No one understood why he got headaches like he did. They called him a freak. His headaches had started getting much worse recently and he'd had to go to the doctor a few weeks ago. The doctor had given him special glasses with ruby quartz lens and his headaches weren't as severe or frequent anymore. That didn't help with the other kids though. Now the teasing was worse. Only a freak has to wear sunglasses all the time, they'd said. Especially ones with red lenses. No one had asked him to play with them since he'd gotten the glasses.

Scott had gotten a lot faster in that time. Most of the bigger boys had starting picking fights with him; Scott had to run to keep from getting beat up. He'd managed to get away every time and learned to avoid the troublemakers as much as possible. Today, he wouldn't get so lucky.

"Get down here freak." David yelled as he and two of his friends walked towards the tree. "You're gonna pay for rattin' on me and getting me into so much trouble, punk."

David startled Scott. He was so caught up in watching the other kids play that he hadn't seen the boys walking towards him. "Shit," he muttered as he climbed down the tree. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he took off running in the opposite direction.

"You can't run forever, punk," David yelled after him as he and his friends ran after Scott.

Scott took a quick look back, careful to keep his balance. *Good, I'm losing them.* Suddenly, he felt the air knocked from his lungs as he was tackled to the ground. He twisted to look at the boy who'd knocked him down and cursed himself as he realized who it was. He was looking into the face of Dean Dalton, one of David's best friends. *I shoulda realized he wasn't with them. It was a trap,* he thought as Dean hauled Scott to his feet and pinned his arms behind his back. Scott struggled to get free but, although Dean was the same height as Scott, Dean was much stronger. Dean tightened his grip on Scott, who winced in pain. As he looked around, Scott realized he was in a lot of trouble. They were to far from the home. No one would hear him if he yelled.

"The other boys told me you'd run like a chicken shit," David started as he and the other two boys caught up, "told me you're fast as a jackrabbit to, so we set up a little trap for ya. You're not only a freak, but you got a real long yellow streak too don'tcha? That's why all them people brought your ass back here."

"At least some people took me home," Scott fired back. "No one has even tried to foster you in over eight years. No one wants a big, dumb, PUNK like you." Scott knew it wasn't a good idea to antagonize David like that, but he knew he was going to get beat up anyway. He figured he'd get in a couple good shots while he could. Without warning, Scott pushed back against Dean, and using the bigger boy to steady himself, kicked David square in the chest with both feet. The action caused Dean to loose his grip on Scott. Both boys landed on the ground. Scott got up quickly and kicked Dean hard in the stomach as the other boy tried to get up. Frank and Lance Clark- David's other two friends- lunged at Scott. Scott managed to connect a solid right with Lance's jaw. Then he swung at Frank, but the older boy was ready. He caught Scott's fist and twisted it roughly behind his back, then pulled Scott close to him. Scott yelled in pain. Frank caught Scott's other fist as Scott attempted to punch Dean and pulled that one back as well.

"You are going to pay for that you little freak!" David said as he got to his feet. Lance was also back on his feet and joined David and Dean in front of Scott. "I'm gonna make you wish you were never born." David swung his fist as he finished talking. Somehow, Scott's glasses had stayed on during the scuffle. They broke and fell to the ground as David's fist connected with the side of Scott's head. He hit Scott in the face again then punched him in the stomach several times. "Let him go," David said.

Frank released Scott, who dropped to his knees, arms wrapped around his stomach as he gasped for air.

"Get up," David told him. Scott didn't move. He looked up and glared defiantly at David. "I said GET UP."

Scott slowly started to stand, before he could get all the way up, another fist connected with his jaw and he fell to the ground with a thud. He was bombarded with fists and feet. The boys hit and kicked Scott wherever they could. Scott wrapped his arms protectively around his head. He screamed in pain as a foot connected with the wrist Frank had twisted. The bone broke as another kick connected with it. He withdrew into his mind, trying to block out the pain as the onslaught continued. They weren't bothering to punch him anymore now, only kick him. Scott inhaled a sharp breath as several feet connected with his ribs, which cracked under the pressure. Several then connected with his back.

Several minutes passed before the boys finally stopped. David looked down at Scott. "Tell on me again, freak, and you'll think this was nothin' compared to what I'll do to you next time!" David lashed out one more time, kicking Scott in his ribs. Then he and the other boys turned and walked away.

Scott watched the other boys walk away. He could have sworn he saw Nathaniel watching in the distance, an evil sharp-toothed grin on his face and a blood red diamond on his forehead. He blinked to try to clear his vision then looked again. No one was there. Finally, the pain became too much for Scott. As he slipped into unconsciousness, he heard someone yelling, "Ms. Branson! Scott fell out of the tree!"

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott blinked against the bright light as he slowly opened his eyes. He tried to lift his left arm to cover his eyes, and yelled as a bolt of white-hot pain lanced through his broken arm.

Ms. Branson, who had fallen asleep in a nearby chair, jumped up and rushed to Scott's bedside. "Try not to move too much, Scott," she said in a gentle voice. "You've been hurt pretty bad." She gently stroked his forehead as she spoke to him. "Just rest. Relax and go back to sleep. You're safe here."

Scott stared at her briefly through unfocused eyes, then drifted back to sleep.

Late the next afternoon, he awoke again. "Hi, sleepy head," Ms. Branson said smiling. "How do you feel?"

"Hurts," Scott whispered. He looked down at his left arm, which had been immobilized in a white and blue sling. The arm was in a bright blue cast that extended from just below his knuckles up to his elbow. He tried to lift his head, but was stilled by a wave of nausea. He brought his right hand to the side of his head where David had first punched him. He had a thick gauze pad over the cut and his eye that was held in place by gauze wrapped around his forehead.

Ms. Branson looked at him with concern. "Don't try to sit up, Scott. You have a concussion. What hurts?"

"Everything." Scott inhaled sharply as he became more aware of the pain. His legs hurt some, but his arms, chest, back, and head felt like they were on fire. He listened quietly as Ms. Branson listed his injuries. He had a light concussion; six stitches where his glasses had cut his face when they broke, two broken ribs, and two ribs with a hairline fracture. His arm had been broken. His chest, back, and both his arms, were covered with bruises. He also had some swelling around his spine.

"You're going to have to stay for a while, sweetheart. At least until the swelling goes down in around your spine." She paused for a moment, and then asked, "Who did this to you, Scott? Was it David?"

Scott stared at Ms. Branson, "I climbed a little too high in my tree. Lost my balance coming down and I fell."

Scott was sure she didn't really believe that, but she merely sighed.

Scott stared at her a few more seconds then closed his eyes. *Not a snowball's chance in _hell_ I'm saying anything,* he thought to himself. *Not a snowball's chance in hell. I'll get that jerk and his friends back my way.* With that thought, he drifted back to sleep.

Ms. Branson leaned over and lightly kissed the top of Scott's head. "Sleep tight," she whispered. Then she left to find a nurse.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

"I can walk," Scott protested as a nurse brought a wheelchair into his room. After ten days of being stuck in a bed or a wheelchair, he wanted nothing more than to walk out of there.

"I know you can, but this is hospital policy young man. You either roll out or stay here." She smiled at Scott as the boy mumbled under his breath and got into the chair. She ruffled his hair and turned the chair around. The nurse wheeled him to the elevator, then down to the check out desk. Ms. Branson was there, signing the necessary paper work. She looked up and smiled as she saw Scott.

"Hello, Scott," she said cheerfully. "How do you feel today?" She felt her anger coming back as she looked at Scott. The patch over his eye was gone and the stitches had been taken out yesterday. He had a nasty scar the doctor said would fade some, but not much. The bruise around the area was now a dingy greenish-yellowish color and almost gone. His ribs were now tightly wrapped to help them heal.

"Fine, Ms. Branson," he said. *My back and arm still hurt like a bitch.* He kept that thought to himself. He didn't want to take the chance of them saying he had to stay any longer. "I just want to get out of here. I'm tired of lying in that bed all the time."

"You still have to take it easy Scott. Don't try to do too much at once," the nurse warned. Then she turned to Ms. Branson. "The doctor wanted to talk to you before you left, but he just got called for an emergency surgery. He gave me these," she said, handing Ms. Branson a couple small pieces of paper. "One is for pain, one is for a muscle relaxant, and the other is for an antibiotic. The pain reliever has one refill, the other two he only has to take until they're gone. Make sure he doesn't do anything strenuous. No running, jumping, or anything like that. Bring him back in two weeks so the doctor can check to make sure everything is healing correctly. He'll let you know then if he wants to see Scott again, or if you can just have Doctor Lee remove the cast when the bones heal."

Ms. Branson thanked the nurse. The nurse walked back behind Scott and wheeled him towards the exit, with Ms. Branson walking beside Scott. "Good bye, Scott," the nurse said. "See you in a few weeks. Behave until then." She gave him a hug then opened the door to the car.

Scott returned the nurse's hug and said good-bye. Ms. Branson helped him get out of the chair and into the car. She shut his door then got into the passenger side in the front.

Mr. Johnson, who was behind the wheel, turned and faced Scott. "Hello, young man. You gave us quite a scare there. How do you feel?"

"Better, Mr. Johnson. Thank you."

"Good. Good, I'm glad to hear that. You and I have to have a talk when we get back to the home." That said, he turned around, started the car, and started the drive back to the home.

*I know what you want to talk about,* Scott thought as he stared out the window, *but you won't get anything from me.* He waved to the nurse, then sat back in his seat and put his seat belt on. He sat quietly as theydrove toward the home. The drive was short and Scott sighed deeply as they pulled into the driveway. *I'd give anything to be anywhere but here.* He looked out the car window and noticed David and his friends standing a few feet away. As Ms. Branson opened his door to help him out, Scott saw David glaring at him.

Scott ignored him. He leaned on Ms. Branson, who led him into the orphanage and into a small room in the back. "This is supposed to be for people who help out here that need a room, but you'll be using it for a while. The doctor said no steps for at least two more weeks, except to go outside for a little while each day. We moved all your stuff into here. I brought you some coloring books and crayons and a couple more models." She helped Scott to the bed and turned to a stand by the bed. "They're in here," she said, tapping the stand. "In the bottom drawer is a little lap table you can work on.

"You won't be well enough to go back to school before the year ends, so I've had a talk with your teachers and your principal. You've been doing so well that they've all agreed that as long as you do all the work that is given to you and keep your grades up, you don't have to take the year end exams."

"Yes!" Scott immediately looked sheepish and said, "Uhh ...I mean, OK."

Ms. Branson chuckled then continued. "I've talked to Kaylee and she will be bringing your schoolwork here for you."

Scott's smile broadened. Kaylee lived at the home too and was in his class at school. She was pretty, nice, and always sat with him at lunch.

"I've also arranged for Jimmy to tutor you if you need any help with anything."

Scott nodded. Jimmy was in eighth grade. While he and Scott weren't really friends, Scott did like him. Jimmy had been at the home for about a year. He was friendly, but quiet and pretty much kept to himself. Just like Scott.

"I'm going to go to the kitchen and get you something to eat. What would you like?"

Scott thought for a moment then asked, "Can I have grilled cheese with ham and a Coke?"

"Sure. Would you like some cookies, too?"

"Yes, please," Scott answered.

"Will you be all right here by yourself?"

Scott nodded yes.

"OK," Ms. Branson said. She ruffled his hair then turned and left.

Scott smoothed out his hair. *Why do adults always do that?* he wondered. He looked up when he heard a noise at the door and tensed when he saw it was David.

The older boy glared menacingly at Scott as he walked over to the bed. "Remember punk, not a word or I'll pulverize ya."

"I didn't say anything, asshole."

"Better make sure you keep it that way." David whispered as he leaned in closer to Scott. He pounded his fist into his open palm again, in front of Scott's face, to emphasize his point. "Don't forget." He stared at Scott a few moments longer. Just as he turned to leave, Ms. Branson walked in with Scott's lunch.

"What are you doing in here, David, you were all told that Scott is not to be bothered," she asked, glaring at the boy.

David quickly smiled a false, cheery smile and lied, "I saw you guys pull up and thought I'd come to see how Scott's doing. You know, see if he needs anything."

"He's fine, David, now go back outside."

"Yes, ma'am." David walked to the door, turned and glared at Scott for a second, then left.

"Was he bothering you, Scott? Did he threaten you? Are you afraid of him and that's why you won't tell me what happened," she asked.

"No, Ms. Branson," Scott lied. "He was just saying hi."

Ms. Branson was silent for a moment then sighed. "Here's your lunch. Mrs. Simpson made some chocolate and peanut butter chip cookies especially for you. She missed you." Ms. Branson set the tray on the stand and sat down next to Scott. "I wish you would talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about. I fell. Thank you for bringing my lunch, and tell Mrs. Simpson I said thank you for the cookies and that I missed her too."

"Okay, Scott. Mr. Johnson will be down in a little bit to talk to you. I'll come back in a few hours to check on you." Ms. Branson kissed the top of Scott's head then got up and left.

"Okay," Scott said as he watched her leave. Then sat all way back against the headboard and picked up his lunch tray and set it on his lap. *I wonder if all women are that mushy. That's like, the third time she kissed me today. I wish she'd stop,* he thought sadly. *Mom used to do that.* He felt tears start to roll down his cheeks and fiercely wiped them away. *No crying Summers. Mom and Dad are dead and there's nothing you can do about it. It's time to start looking out for yourself. Nobody's gonna do it for you. Mick is right, it's time to start acting like a man, not a little nancy boy.* He took a deep breath and released it, then ate his lunch.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Ms. Branson's Office A Few Hours Later

"I don't know what to do Ms. Branson. He refuses to talk about it." Mr. Johnson said, sighing in frustration.

"I know," she said sadly. "He won't talk to me either. I know it was David and his friends, but there's nothing we can do if Scott won't identify them." She sat back in her chair, just as frustrated as Mr. Johnson. "He's changed so much since we brought him here. He used to be more talkative, at least with the staff. Now, he hardly talks to anyone. I think he's started cursing as well. When I was bringing him his lunch, I heard him talking to someone. I couldn't hear most of what was said, but I distinctly heard the word asshole and I'm sure it was Scott who said it. When I entered the room, David was there. I think he threatened Scott."

"Did you ask Scott about it?"

"Yes, but he said David was just saying hi. I know he was lying."

"Are you sure it was him that cursed? It could have been David."

"I'm almost positive it was Scott. A few of the other children said they've heard him curse, but I didn't believe them. I thought they were just trying to get Scott in trouble. I just don't know what to do. He won't talk to the psychiatrist. I wish someone would look past those glasses and the brain damage and see what a sweet kid he is. I know he'd be okay if we could just get him into a stable home now."

"I know," Mr. Johnson said, "but we can't force anyone to take him." *They won't even consider fostering him now that he has to wear those damn glasses,* Mr. Johnson thought bitterly. *They take one look at him, find out why he has to wear those glasses, and turn away.* "There's nothing we can do but let him know we're here for him and hope for the best." He sighed again as he stood up. "I have some things to take care of," he said, and then walked out of the office.

Ms. Branson watched him leave and fought back the urge to cry.

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Copyright: 9/01  
Updated: 3/26/2008  
Word Count: 1,895

* * *

"All right, Scott, you can get dressed now," Doctor Russell told the boy on the examining table. He chuckled as Scott quickly jumped down, literally ripped the paper gown off, and put his clothes on. As soon as Scott was dressed, the doctor opened the examining room door and called Ms. Branson back into the room. He told Scott and Ms. Branson what he'd found during the exam.

"You mean I don't hafta come back here again?" Scott broke in excitedly, interrupting the doctor.

"Scott," Ms. Branson chastised him. "What have you been told about interrupting people?"

Scott dropped his eyes and said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Russell. I forgot."

"It's all right, Scott. And no, you don't have to come back to the hospital again."

"Yes!" Scott paused a moment and looked down at his left arm, still in the cast. He lifted it up and said, "But what about this stupid thing? Aren't you going to take it off today?"

"Not today, Scott. Two of the breaks have completely healed, but the one in your wrist still needs a little more time. In two weeks Doctor Lee can take it off."

"Oh man. Two more weeks! That's what you said two weeks ago. And two weeks before _that_! I don't want to wear it anymore." Scott liked Doctor Lee. He, like most of the staff at the home, volunteered his time and services. He came out once a month and gave a checkup to a different group of kids each time. That way each child had a yearly checkup. For emergencies, the home would bring a child to his office and he'd charge them a discounted rate. He was funny and always made Scott laugh, but Scott wanted the stupid cast off _now_!

Ms. Branson stared at him in surprised silence. For the first time since she'd met him, Scott was actually acting like a boy his age should. He was always so adult-like in his actions and words. Even more so after Alex was adopted. A man inside a little eight year-old boy's body.

"I know, Scott," the doctor said, interrupting Ms. Branson's thoughts, "but if we take it off now the bones won't heal right. You could hurt yourself even more and wind up right back here, and in another cast. Two more weeks and you'll be free." He smiled. "I promise."

For a moment, it looked like Scott was actually going to pout. Instead, he just sighed softly and said, "Yeah, you're right. I guess."

"As long as he doesn't fall out of that tree and break the other arm." Ms. Branson added.

Scott gave them the kid-patented 'who me' look.

The two adults couldn't help but chuckle.

"All right, Scott, time to go," Ms. Branson said as she shook the doctor's hand. "Good-bye, Doctor Russell. Thank you."

Scott shook the doctor's hand. "Thanks, Doctor Russell. 'Bye."

"Goodbye Scott. Oh, and Scott," he said as the boy turned the doorknob and started to leave the office, "Stay out of that tree okay? At least until your arm heals."

"Yeah, sure, Doc," Scott said with a smile.

The doctor, of course, knew that was kid-talk for 'not a chance'. Scott skipped out of the office. As Ms. Branson started to leave, the doctor called out to her. "Ms. Branson ...call me in a couple weeks and let me know how he's doing, okay?"

"Sure, Doctor Russell," She said then left.

Doctor Russell sighed as she walked through the door. After talking with Ms. Branson a few times about Scott and hearing about what life has been like for the Scott, he'd briefly considered adopting the boy. He had the money and the space to take the child in, but eventually his head had overruled his heart. Money and space weren't what Scott needed. He needed parents who could give him time and attention. Two things the doctor couldn't give him. It wouldn't have been fair to his five children, whom he already had trouble trying to make enough time for, or to Scott. Or his wife for that matter. He knew she'd love Scott, but she already had her hands full with their own children.

The doctor had serious doubts about how Scott had gotten hurt. It was his duty to call Social Services and report the injuries and he had, but nothing had come of it. Not that he'd suspected Ms. Branson would hurt Scott, but the boy's description of how he'd obtained his injuries was suspicious. If he'd really fallen out of a tree he would have more cuts and scratches from the branches. Social Services had informed him just two days ago that they'd 'investigated the matter and found no evidence of 'foul play.'

*God, please let someone adopt that boy soon. He deserves a little happiness. No child should ever have to go through as much pain and heartache as he has.*

X X X X X X X X X X X X

July 4th 1986

*Finally!* Scott slowly rotated his newly freed wrist. *That stupid thing is off!* "This means I can go swimming today too, right, Doctor Lee?"

"Yes, Scott, but you still need to take it easy with that arm. The muscles are weak from disuse and it will take them a while to get strong again." He gave the boy a small smile and added, "I guess this truly is Independence Day for you, huh?"

"Yup," Scott said, grinning. "Can I go now?"

"Yes."

Scott thanked the doctor and quickly left the small office. *Yes! I can't wait till after lunch!* As a special treat for the Fourth of July, Ms. Branson and several of the volunteers were taking the children down to the lake for the day.

This would be his first trip to the lake. He quickly ran up to his room, which he'd moved back into a few weeks ago, and put on his new swim trunks.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

*Lex would have loved this.* Scott thought as he stood barefoot on the sand and watched the small waves, caused by splashing people and the breeze, as they flowed onto the beach. He walked forward slowly until the water covered his feet. When the water went out, he twisted his feet until the wet sand completely covered them. Scott watched in amazement as the heavy coating on his feet was washed away with the rolling waves. He repeated the process a few times, before finally walking until the water came up to his navel.

Scott held his nose with one hand and his glasses with the other, took a deep breath then dunked himself. Confident he wouldnt get a rush of water up his nose, he released it. He smiled as he surfaced, jumping as a wave hit him. *This is great! I wish I could stay here forever!* He dunked himself again, this time staying under a little longer before resurfacing again. With a little more confidence that he wouldn't lose his glasses, Scott dove under again and started swimming underwater.

Scott gasped and swallowed water as something suddenly grabbed his ankle. He kicked furiously, freeing himself, and surfaced. He gagged and spit out the water as he frantically searched for what had grabbed him. He turned around at the sound of laughter behind him. David was standing a few feet from him, rubbing his wrist.

"Man, you shoulda seen your face! You looked like you were ready to piss your shorts." David sneered at the younger boy. "You know, you kick pretty hard for a little runt."

Scott glared angrily at David, but said nothing as he walked past the older boy, towards the shore. A noise behind him made him turn around just in time to see David throw himself at Scott. He had just enough time to take a deep breath as David pulled him under.

Scott fought the bigger boy off and resurfaced, but David quickly dragged him back under. He managed to make his way to the surface again and gasped for air.

"That's enough David!"

Both boys looked towards the shore to see Ms. Branson and Elliot, one of the volunteers, walking towards them.

"Aww, we were just playing, Ms. Branson." David said, and then turned towards Scott. "Weren't we, Scott."

"Yeah, that's right." Scott said as he scrambled out of the water, grateful he'd managed to keep his glasses on. He walked past the adults to where he'd left his things on the beach. He spread out his towel and lay down on it. He watched Ms. Branson talk to David. The older boy gave her a false smile, then turned and glowered angrily at Scott when she and Elliot turned away. He watched David walk back into the water.

*Very stupid, Scott. What did Dad teach you about leaving yourself open to enemy attack? About _not_ getting caught alone? He'd be pretty disappointed in you right now.* He knew he needed to remember not to be alone anywhere. It was an open invitation for David and his buddies to mess with him. He shook his head.

Scott sighed and sat up as Ms. Branson walked towards him. Elliot headed towards a group of arguing children with a Frisbee.

"What really happened, Scott?" She asked as she kneeled in front of him.

"Nothing, we were just horsing around."

"I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth, Scott. Why are you defending him?"

Scott stared at her for a moment. "I'm not." He said as he got up and walked over to a group of younger children. He knelt down beside them and began helping them build their sand castle. Scott liked playing with the little ones. They didn't tease him about his glasses or his headaches.

Ms. Branson sighed heavily as she watched Scott start to pack sand on the building that was slowly taking form. She debated pulling him aside and trying, once again, to get him to talk to her. She quickly dismissed the idea. Scott wouldn't talk to her. She stood up and walked over to Danny, another volunteer, and helped him get the grill ready for dinner.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott took his glasses off and put them in his duffel bag as he situated himself on his towel. He loved it when the sun went down. It meant he could take his glasses off without getting a headache. Leaning back on his elbows, he eagerly waited for the fireworks to begin.

"Hi punk," David whispered as he sat down next to Scott.

Scott sat straight up and turned to look at David. "What do you want now?" he growled at the older boy.

"What did you tell Ms. Branson about our little ...swim?"

"Nothing."

David looked up and saw Ms. Branson staring at him. He looked back to Scott and whispered again. "Keep it that way, punk, or I'll have to give you another lesson on what happens to punks that squeal on me."

Scott glared at David and thought of a few nasty things to say. He broke into a grin and said, "Bring it on."

David stared at Scott in shock. After a minute, he got up as quietly as he came and walked back to his towel.

Scott immediately turned his eyes to the sky as it exploded with sound and the most beautiful colors he had ever seen. He watched in wide-eyed wonder, the days encounters with David momentarily forgotten.

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Copyright: 12/01  
Updated: 3/26/2008  
Word Count: 2,622

* * *

Scott grimaced as he open his eyes. He had a headache. Again. The bright light coming from the open window wasn't helping it either. His closed his eyes and pulled his blanket over his head. He was glad that it was Saturday and he'd finished all of his homework the night before. School had started two weeks ago and, unlike most of the kids in his class, he was glad. Scott liked school. Sometimes, he even liked getting homework. It was hard, but it he didn't mind. Dad had always told him that hard work was good for people.

"Whatsa matter, punk, got a headache again?"

*Why the hell can't he find someone else to screw with today?* He pulled the blanket off his head, took his glasses from his nightstand, put them on, and looked at David. "_Now_ what do you want?" Scott growled.

David was about to say something when they heard footsteps coming up the hall.

"Scott, you're late for breakfast again. Are you...." Ms. Branson stopped mid sentence as she entered the room, trailing off as she caught sight of David standing by Scott's bed.

"Good morning, Ms. Branson," David said with a cheery smile as he turned to face her. He turned back towards Scott, gave the younger boy a menacing grin and left the room.

Scott sighed as he slowly got out of bed. "I'm sorry, Ms. Branson. I just over slept."

Ms. Branson watched him silently for a moment. "Jimmy said he couldn't wake you up. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Ms. Branson. It's just a headache. I'll get some Motrin from the nurse before I go to breakfast." He paused for a moment, his eyes anywhere but on her. "Um ...could you please leave so I can get dressed?"

Ms. Branson blushed. "Yes, of course." She started to turn to leave then stopped. "What did David want, Scott?"

"Don't know." Scott said tightly. "He didn't say."

Ms. Branson paused in the doorway, her mouth half open as if to say something, then shook her head and left.

Scott got out of bed slowly. He was sure Ms. Branson was going to push the issue and was a little surprised when she left.

Scott went to his closet and pulled out a pair of blue jeans and his favorite t-shirt, the blue one with the jet on it. He dressed as quickly as his throbbing head would allow and went down to the nurse's office. He knocked on the door and waited for a response.

"Come in," Mrs. Timons said.

Scott opened the door and went in the office. Mrs. Timons took one look at Scott and asked, "Another headache?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The nurse nodded and went over to her medicine closet. She took out a bottle of Motrin, shook two into her hand then handed them to Scott. "Sit," she said, pointing to a chair. Scott did as he was told and Mrs. Timons got him a glass of water. "Sit still until it starts to subside and then go eat breakfast. I'll have Mrs. Simpson make a plate for you."

Scott nodded and took the pills. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. This was not going to be a good day.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Normally, Scott loved being out in the sunshine, but today it only seemed to be making his headache worse. He'd climbed into his tree, like he did everyday, hoping the shade provided by the branches would offer some relief. He'd been perched in the tree for over an hour, but his head wasn't pounding any less. *It's just getting worse. I've got to go inside and lie down.* Scott thought as he climbed down slowly. He wasn't even halfway to the house when the pain in his head suddenly increased. He groaned and held his head in both hands.

From a few yards away, David and his friends watched as Scott slowly made his way into the orphanage. *Looks like it's time to play another exciting round of Fuck With The Freak.* David thought. He looked at his watch. *Yup, it's been two hours since I saw him this morning, he's definitely due.* He turned to look at his buddies. "Come on guys, let's go have some fun." The other boys smiled and nodded.

"Hiya, freak." David said as Dean ran up behind Scott and pushed the boy to the ground.

Scott looked up into the faces of the four boys who always seemed to be taunting him.

"What the Hell do you want now? Don't you have babies to steal lollipops from? That's about your level."

"You're gonna get it now, smart ass." David pulled his fist back and swung at Scott, who quickly moved and got to his feet. David stumbled and nearly fell from the momentum of his swing. David snarled at Scott and threw another punch, which Scott managed to dodge - again.

Scott's head was pounding even worse now. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer. The pain intensified once more and his knees felt weak. Scott groaned as his head began to spin. David suddenly appeared in front of him and snatched the glasses off his face.

"Give 'em back, asshole!" Scott yelled, instantly regretting it. He clutched his head as he fell to his knees moaning.

"Dude, look at his eyes," one of the boys said.

Scott looked up at David. "What about my eyes?" He asked weakly.

"They're ...they're glowing!" Frank and Lance nearly shouted in unison.

"What...." All the boys jumped to the side as whatever Scott was about to say was cut off as a red beam shot out of his eyes. The blast just barely missed David, his desperate attempt to avoid it knocked the older boy onto his backside.

Fear coursed though Scott and he quickly shut his eyes.

"WHAT THE HELL?" David yelled as he scrambled to his feet. "I told he was a freak!"

"Give me back my glasses," Scott said frantically.

"Here, take 'em." David threw the glasses at Scott. Scott could hear their footsteps start to sound backwards, slowly now, then faster. "Come on guys, let's go tell Ms. Branson," David said, his slightly-higher-than-normal voice fading towards the house.

Scott felt around for his glasses, finding them in the grass through the dark. He slid them over his still closed eyes and pulled his knees to his chest. Leaning his head on them, he tried to keep the hot drops from sliding down his face.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

"Ms. Branson ...Ms. Branson."

Ms. Branson looked up from her desk as she heard her named being screamed.

"What is it, David?" She asked, seeing David and his friends come to a skidding halt at her office door.

"I told you hes a freak." The boy said as he gasped for breath.

"Who?" She asked, looking at the group in confusion. A dawning suspicion hit her and she quickly added, "What did you do to Scott, David?"

"Nothing. His eyes ...they ...they...." Lance stuttered.

"Spit it out, Lance. What did you boys do to Scott?" She demanded.

"_Nothing_. His eyes were glowing. Then he shot some kinda laser beam out of them or something. He nearly killed us! I told you he was a freak. Now are you gonna do something about him?" David stared expectantly at the woman.

"Where is he?" Ms. Branson couldn't quite keep the fear out of her voice. *If those boys have hurt him....* the thought was cut off as Frank answered her.

"By that stupid tree."

"All four of you go to your room right now. I'll deal with you later."

The look on Ms. Branson's face made all four boys decide that now was not a good time to argue. The three younger boys looked relieved and quickly exited the office. Anger flared in David's eyes, but he said nothing as he turned and went up to his room.

Ms. Branson rushed out of the office and into the backyard. She thought it odd that the boys seemed frightened when they'd burst into her office. Pushing the thought aside she ran faster. She found Scott sitting on the grass rocking, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He was starring at something, his eyes curiously blank. It hit her then that the tree that Scott, and at one time, Alex, had spent so much time in was no longer there. All that was left was a splintered, charred stump. There were pieces of bark and wood and leaves scattered around.

"Scott, sweetheart, are you okay?" Ms. Branson kneeled beside Scott, put her hand under his chin and gently lifted his head. "What happened?"

"I ...I don't know. David took my glasses and then Frank and Lance said my eyes were glowing. They felt weird, kinda tingly. Then this red beam came out of my eyes." Scott answered in a shaky voice. "I tried to make it stop, but it wouldn't so I shut my eyes. David threw my glasses back at me and I put 'em on." He paused. "I only just got around to opening them. I was afraid that...."

Ms. Branson could see the fear in Scott's eyes through the red shades. The boy looked absolutely terrified. "It's all right Scott. It's not your fault." The boy didn't look convinced. "Let me see your glasses." The boy hesitated but did as he was told. Ms. Branson gasped as she looked into Scott's glowing red eyes.

"Give them back," Scott said suddenly. "Give them back _now_, please."

Ms. Branson heard the pleading tone in Scott's voice and moved quickly to the side just as a red beam shot from his eyes. Scott shut his eyes immediately and started to sob quietly. She pressed the glasses into Scott's outstretched hand.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm so, so, sorry."

"It's okay, Scott. I'm okay. You missed me." *Barely.* "Everything will be fine. I'll call Dr. Essex when we get back inside. Maybe he can figure out what's happening to you." She put his glasses in his hand.

Scott nodded but said nothing as he put the glasses back on and slowly opened his eyes. He really did not want to go back to that doctor. Something about the way he smiled at Scott gave the boy the creeps and sent shivers down his spine. He let Ms. Branson help him up, and the two of them walked back to her office.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

"Thanks again for seeing us on such short notice, Doctor."

"Not a problem, Ms. Branson." Dr. Essex turned back towards Scott. "Well, young man, I don't see anything unusual in your eyes. Give me your glasses."

Scott closed his eyes and removed the glasses. He felt another pair slipped on and opened his eyes. Everything looked red.

"You're a very special boy, Scott, with a very unique gift. Based on what you've told me, I'm assuming that the sun powers your gift. I'm also assuming that the injury you acquired in the plane crash is inhibiting your ability to control that gift." The doctor paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "As long as you keep those glasses on at all times you shouldn't have any incidents like what happened earlier. These have a much higher concentration of ruby quartz and should stop the headaches as well as keeping your gift in check."

"How do you know all this, Doctor?"

The doctor chuckled mentally at the obvious skepticism and sudden distrust in the woman's voice.

"Genetics is also a hobby of mine. I've studied it for years." He smiled as the woman's expression changed and the doubt he'd seen in her eyes faded. Ms. Branson's eagerness to help Scott left her mind open to suggestion and the 'doctor' had taken advantage of that. The eye exam looked like any other to everyone except the 'doctor', but had been far from routine.

"Ready to go, Scott?"

Scott nodded eagerly and got out of the chair he was sitting in. He took Ms. Branson's offered hand.

"Remember, Scott," the doctor said, "never remove those glasses. Your gift is getting stronger and you don't want to hurt anyone, do you?"

Scott shook his head.

"If, for any reason, you have to take them off or they are knocked off close your eyes immediately. Your eyelids appear to be a natural barrier against your gift."

Scott said nothing as he and Ms. Branson walked out of the office. He sighed in relief as he got into the car, glad to be away from the doctor. The guy totally freaked him out. He remained silent the whole ride back to the orphanage. *Things can't get any worse.*

Doctor Essex closed the blinds in the office. In the light from the flickering lamp, his appearance started to alter, change. He slipped from a middle-aged man into something that shadows clung to. He pulled Scott's file from the cabinet, and scrawled 'Alpha Class' across the papers in large red letters. He snapped the file closed, and slipped it into his briefcase.

The grin on his face was one that did not bode well for his enemies or for Scott.

He had, at last, the perfect weapon with which to exact his revenge.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Things didn't get any better for Scott. Word spread quickly through the home about what he had done. The other children looked like scared rabbits whenever they saw him and stayed as far away from him as they could. Even most of the adults avoided him now, not that he blamed them. He didn't like being feared and felt more alone than ever before, but the fact was that he was afraid of himself.

Ms. Branson was worried about Scott. She had gone to Mr. Johnson's office to voice her concerns. "It's been three weeks since the accident and he's hardly said a word. Everyone is jumpy around him, even most of the volunteers. This isn't good for him."

"I know, but you can't really blame them, Jess. They're scared and with good reason. Scott can literally kill with a look."

"Not the children, no, but the adults should know better. They should be trying to reassure the children, not fuel their fears. Scott would never intentionally hurt anyone, Dan, you know that. They know that."

"Isn't there anything we can do for him? Some kind of surgery or something?" Mr. Johnson knew the answer, but he was praying that perhaps the doctor had called back with better news.

"No." Ms. Branson said the disappointment evident in her voice. "The glasses are the only thing that will help him. That, or never opening his eyes again. Do you know the worst part?"

Mr. Johnson shook his head no.

"Scott said he can't see colors anymore. The glasses are Ruby Quartz. Everything that poor kid sees from now on will be in shades of red."

Mr. Johnson sighed in frustration as he slumped into his chair. The kid didn't deserve this. Scott had been through so much already. He wanted to help the boy, and it angered him that there was nothing he could do to make Scott's life any better.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Ms. Branson was the first to break it.

"So, what do we do now?"

"I don't know. I just don't know."

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott held back the tears that threatened to fall. He'd walked into the rec room and once again all the children had hastily left. He flopped onto the couch and picked up the remote, using it to turn the television off. He sat quietly for a few moments.

He knew what he had to do.

Tonight, when everyone went to sleep, he'd leave this place and never look back.

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Copyright: 3/03  
Updated: 3/26/2008  
Word Count: 1,781

* * *

Scott sat up quickly slapping at his watch. Knowing that all of the staff that stayed at the home went to bed by midnight, he'd set the alarm clock for two a.m. to give them time to fall asleep. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the odd dream he'd been having. He couldn't remember much. Just that he'd been sitting next to a small, pretty, red-haired girl. They had been talking. He tried to remember what theyd been talking about but couldnt. *Wow, that was weird.*

He pushed the dream to the back of his mind and looked around frantically. He sighed in relief as he saw that no one else had awakened. He ate until he was stuffed at dinner. Then faking a headache so no one would get suspicious, he'd gone to bed early. Once in the room he'd opened his closet then the bottom drawer and pulled out the wallet he had hidden there. He counted his money and, satisfied that it was all there, had put it in the pocket of his jeans. Then he'd climbed into bed with his clothes on and let his mind drift.

Scott was as quiet as he could be as he silently emptied all his cloths from the closet and put them into his duffle bag. He also put his 'Brief History of Flight' book and the two science fiction novels he'd gotten last Christmas into the bag. He thought about taking the models too but changed his mind. *That's probably not a good idea. The less I have to carry the better. Beside, it's not like I'll have time to work on them or anywhere to put them. They'll just get busted anyway.* He sighed and put the model jet he'd picked up back on the shelf.

He took one last longing look at the models. He then took his pillows and stuck them under his blanket. The pale moonlight offered little light, but he didn't dare to turn on his flashlight for fear of waking up one of the other boys. He put the flashlight in with his clothes.

The room itself was warm, but Scott knew it was cold outside. Winter had never been his favorite time of year. Although he loved Thanksgiving and Christmas, he hated the cold. After double-checking to make sure he hadnt forgotten anything important, he put his coat on. He slid his empty book bag on, and then picked up his duffle bag. Then he took his key and put it in the closet and closed the door.

Scott walked slowly out of the room and through the dark hallway and slipped quietly into the room at the end of the hall. He was careful as he walked towards Davids bed. Almost tiptoeing to make sure he didn't wake anyone up. Scott smiled as he pulled a black permanent marker from his back pocket. David was a very heavy sleeper, a fact that thrilled Scott. His grin widened as he quickly wrote the word 'loser' on David's forehead. His breath caught in his chest as David swatted the air, barely missing Scott's hand. The older boy grunted then rolled onto his side, mumbling incoherently. Scott held his breath as he tiptoed out of the room then sighed in relief.

He would have loved to do the same to Dean, Lance, and Frank, but they weren't heavy sleepers like David. He didn't want to risk getting caught.

He continued to smile as he headed for the kitchen. Once there he put his duffle bag on the floor and slid his book bag off his back. He knew where Mrs. Timons kept all the snacks and drinks. He loaded up his bag with sodas, juice boxes, and snacks. That done, he put the backpack back on, picked up his duffle bag and walked towards Ms. Branson's office.

There was one more thing he had to do before he left.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

When he was a few blocks away, Scott let out the breath he'd been holding. He did it. He'd left. He was finally getting away from that hell. There were a few people he'd miss, but for the most part, he was happy and relieved to be getting away. He whistled softly as he walked.

A cold breeze blew through his hair and he flipped his hood up, pulling the strings tight. He turned down another road and headed towards the old train station. It had been shutdown years ago. It was small, but completely enclosed. There was a busted window in the back so it would be easy to get into. It would be a good place to spend the night.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

"Perfect." Scott muttered. The broken window at the back of the train station had been boarded up. He looked around for something to use to pry the board off. A few feet away he saw a long piece of metal. He walked over to it, picked it up, and used it to pull the wood off.

Scott used an old crate to stand on and carefully climbed through the window. He pulled out his flashlight and looked around. There were three rows of cushioned seats in the middle of the room. He dropped his duffle bag and backpack on the floor and sat on one of the benches. It was nowhere near as comfortable as a bed, but it would do. He rubbed his sore shoulders. The duffle bag and backpack were heavy. He debated for a minute about leaving the books at the station, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. He loved to read and he knew it would probably be a long time before he would be able to buy any more books.

Yawning, Scott stretched out on the bench. He'd get a little more sleep, then go see Alex.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott walked slowly towards the park. During their last phone call, Alex had said that his new sister, Marissa took him there when she got home from school and on Saturdays. He looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock. He hoped he wasn't too early. The slides were Alex's favorite so he went over and sat on a swing. From there he had a good view of the whole park.

He didn't have to wait long. Five minutes after he started swinging, he saw Alex and Marissa walking towards the slide. Alex was a few inches taller but Scott recognized him immediately. He was wearing blue jeans, sneakers, and a dark green coat. His blonde hair a little longer now, was sticking out under his green hat.

Scott stayed where he was. He watched as Marissa said something to Alex, pointed to a group of girls by a picnic bench, and then walked over to them.

Taking a deep breath, Scott stopped his swing and walked over to the slide. He stopped at the end. Alex was standing at the slide with his hands on the bar.

"Hi, Alex." Scott said.

Alex turned around. "Scotty!" Alex slid down the slide and threw his arms around his brother's waist.

Scott returned the hug.

Alex's smile changed to a confused look. "What are you doing here?"

"I ran away from the home. I just came to...."

Alex's face dropped. "Go away."

"Alex?"

"Leave me alone!"

"Why are you doing this?" Tears started to form in his eyes. He fought to keep them from falling.

"My sister is over there." Alex said as he pointed to the bench. "She won't like you bothering me."

Scott could see that Alex was on the verge of tears. "Lex, I love you. Why are you doing this?" His voice got louder as he spoke. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "Lex, please. I just wanted to...."

"Alex, is this boy bothering you?" Scott whirled around to face Marissa. She didn't look angry, but Scott could tell she wasn't happy either. *How the heck did she get over here so fast?*

Alex visibly relaxed.

Marissa's eyes narrowed. "I remember you. What are you doing here, Scott? You know you're not supposed to see Alex again until tomorrow, and only when Mom and Dad are around."

Scott was silent for a moment as he thought about what he would say. He was torn. Alex was his brother, the younger boy's rejection cut like a knife. All he wanted was to see him. Alex had been happy to see him at first, but was clearly upset now. Why?

"I just wanted...." Scott didn't get a chance to finish.

"I think you should go now, Scott." Marissa looks at him, her face determined, her eyes soft.

"Goodbye, Alex." Scott said sadly, as he walked past Marissa. He walked slowly, head down and shoulders slumped, from the park. Not once did he stop or look back. If he had, he might have seen that Marissa had gone back to her friends. He might have noticed that Alex had slid down the slide and was now sitting on the end of it, watching Scott leave as tears rolled freely down his face. He also might have heard Alex as he whispered.

"I'm sorry, Scotty. I love you too. I like my new home. I don't want to leave. Please don't hate me."

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Ms. Branson sighed as she walked towards her office. She had gone to check on Scott when she'd seen that he hadn't come down to breakfast. Upon finding his pillows stuffed under the blanket, she'd checked his dresser and found it empty. She immediately had Janice, one of the volunteers, call the police. Then, Ms Branson had gathered up the other volunteers and searched the extensive grounds. The family of the previous owner had donated the land and the home to the state when the man had died. Until now, she'd always been glad the grounds were big. Although it made it more difficult to keep an eye on the kids, it gave them plenty of room to run around.

She sank into her chair and ran a hand through her already mussed up hair. That's when she saw the envelope. Her name was scrawled on the outside in a child's writing. Not just any child, she knew that writing. She snatched the envelope and ripped it open. She pulled out the enclosed note and read it.

Ms. Branson,

Sorry if I worried you but I can't stay here anymore.  
I'm gonna miss you. Tell Jack I said bye and thanks.

Oh yeah, one more thing. I didn't fall out of that tree.  
David and his friends beat me up. He also tried to drown  
me at the lake on the fourth of July.

Scott

_TBC_


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Copyright: 3/03  
Updated: 3/26/2008  
Word Count: 2,299

+words+ Is a flashback

Author's Notes: DCF stands for Department of Children and Families.

* * *

Scott sighed as he counted his money. He had exactly one hundred thirty-seven dollars and sixty-two cents left. *I've guess I'm going to have to stay here for a while,* he thought. He'd runaway over a week ago with the two hundred and thirty-two dollars he'd managed to save during his fourteen months at the orphanage, helping the volunteers and doing odd jobs for the neighbors. He'd lost count of the number of diapers he'd helped change and dogs he'd walked, cats fed and fish bowls cleaned.

He hadn't counted on food at a real restaurant costing so much and had learned his lesson quickly when the waitress came back with a bill for seventeen dollars. He'd left her a tip, something he'd vaguely remembered Ms. Branson telling him that polite people did at places like that. Apparently, it wasn't unusual for kids to come in alone because no one questioned him. That had been the day after he'd runaway. He'd stuck to McDonalds and small convenience stores since then.

The upside of all that work had been that one of the volunteers, Jack, had taken strongly to Scott and had taught him how to play pool, blackjack, and poker. He'd quickly discovered he had a natural talent for all three games, especially pool. Scott smiled at the thought of Jack. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall of the abandoned building he'd been sleeping in for the past week as he remembered a conversation he'd had with Jack a few days before he'd runaway.

"Look, Slim," Jack said as he dealt the cards. "I know you got a real shitty deal, especially with that thing with your eyes, but you can't let that get you down. The fact is, life sucks. Deal with it." He threw down one card and looked up at Scott. "How many do you want?" He added three dollars to the pile of bills in the middle of the table and said, "I raise you three bucks."

Scott studied his cards a moment longer then dropped two cards. "Two," he said. "I know what you're saying Jack, but it's hard. Half the kids _and_ most of the staff are scared of me. The other half either just ignore me or want to kick the shit out of me. Nathaniel ain't helping things either. He keeps screwing with David, telling him I said stuff that I didn't say." He studied his cards and kept his face straight as he placed a few singles on the pile. "I'll see your three and raise you another three."

"I know he's annoying, Slim, but you'll just have to try harder to avoid the little jackass. Same thing with David. He's just a little punk who's pissed off at the world and takes it out on anyone he can. I'll see your three and call it". He smiled broadly as he said, "Read 'em and weep, little man!" as he laid his cards on the table. "Full house, sixes and Kings!" He reached out to take the money when Scott spoke.

"Not so fast, Jack." His face remained straight as he laid his cards on the table. "Full House, nines and _Aces_." Scott chuckled at the look on his friends face as he reached over and pulled the money towards himself.

"Christ, I can't believe I'm being hustled by a seven year-old!" Jack shook his head and smiled as he picked up the cards and shuffled them again.

"Yeah, well that's what you get for teaching me how to play so good." Scott said. "And, I'm almost eight now."

"I know, Slim." Jack put the cards down. "Let's call it quits for the night."

"Why. I'm just getting warmed up!"

"Yeah, well you've already got almost half my paycheck kid. I need the other half to make my car payment."

"Don't forget the twenty you owe me from Wednesday." Scott said just as Jack was putting the rest of his money in the pocket of his jeans.

Jack let out a mock sigh, pulled the cash out of his pocket and handed Scott a twenty dollar bill. "You're gonna break me one day, Slim." He put the rest of the money away and reached into his other pocket pulling out a shinny metal object. "Here kid," he said as he tossed the object to Scott. "I know your birthday isnt until January so consider it an early gift."

Scott stared wide-eyed at the object. "Wow! Thanks, Jack!" He turned the object, a new bright blue harmonica, over a few times then brought it to his lips and began to play softly. He played for a few minutes than wiped it off and put it in his pocket. "Thanks, man. It's really cool."

"No problem." Jack had remembered an offhanded remark Scott had once made about his father teaching him how to play the harmonic. He looked at his watch; 9:27. "Okay, kid, enough yakking. If Ms. Branson catches you up this late my ass is grass."

"Yeah, you're right." Scott stifled a yawn as he got up and walked towards the door. Jack's voice made him stop.

"Scott." Jack waited for the boy to turn and face him before he spoke again. "Don't go doing anything rash, Slim. You're a smart kid. Think. Act, don't react. If there's one thing my prick of an old man taught me it's that you can't rely on anyone but yourself. Take the advantage when you can. This ain't exactly the Ritz, but you got three squares a day, a warm bed and there are a few people here who actually give a rat's ass what happens to ya. Take it from me, Slim Boy; this is a hell of a lot better than the streets."

The following morning Scott yawned and stretched as he slowly opened his eyes. Before he could look at his watch, his stomach told him it was definitely time for breakfast. Looking at his watch confirmed it. It was just after seven. He also realized he'd have to start really putting the skills Jack had taught him to work if he wanted to keep eating. He quickly dressed in the cleanest clothes he could find and headed off towards McDonalds.

A few minutes later Scott reached his destination. He pulled open the door and walked up to the counter. "I'd like a sausage biscuit, two hash browns and a large orange juice, please." He told the woman behind the counter.

"Where are your parents, little boy?" The woman stared at him intently. She was a portly, aging woman with dark brown, gentle eyes, short dark brown hair, and light brown skin. Her nametag said Tammy.

Scott sighed and answered, "I'm not little. I'm almost eight, and I know how to handle money. My parents are waiting in the car."

Tammy looked at him skeptically for a moment then smiled, entered his order and told him the price. Scott handed her a ten-dollar bill. She handed him his change, which he carefully counted. He watched the woman as she put his food into a bag and set it on the counter. Next, she took a cup and got his juice. She set it on the counter next to his bag. "Salt, pepper, ketchup?"

"Yes. All three please."

Dropping the condiments into his bag, Tammy smiled sadly at the small boy. He was thin and, though it had obviously been brushed, his hair was greasy-looking. She was sure it hadn't been washed in a few days. Most likely a week or more. She'd seen a lot of runaways in her days at this job and she'd been pretty good at spotting them. This boy showed all the signs. She'd found out over the years that she couldn't do much about it. Every time she'd reported a child she suspected was a runaway she was either ignored or written off as a nosey old busy body. The one time someone had actually listened to her, the child, a boy about nine years old, had been taken to a foster home and his parents where contacted. Three days later he was returned to his mother. One week after that his abusive, cocaine-addicted mother had beaten him to death. When she'd inquired further about the incident, she'd been told to mind her own business.

She inhaled deeply then said, "If you and your parents need a place to sleep, there's a shelter down the street about five blocks. They'll give you a place to sleep for a few nights and some hot food. They don't ask no questions either." She was quiet a moment, giving the boy a chance to comprehend what she was saying.

Realization sunk in quickly and Scott smiled at the woman. "Thanks, lady," he said as he grabbed his bag and left the restaurant.

The old woman felt a bit guilty as she watched the boy leave with his breakfast. The shelter didn't ask questions of adults or teenagers, but with a boy Scott's age they would definitely be asking a lot of questions. *At least they'll get him off the streets. A boy that small would never make it on his own.* She took comfort in knowing that the shelter wouldn't simply turn him over to DCF. They worked with area families to provide foster care until the family was found or permanent arrangements could be made.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

As Scott walked down the street munching on a hash brown, he debated checking out the shelter. He was skeptical by nature, and life at the orphanage had taught him that people very rarely helped him without some ulterior motive. Still, the women didn't know him at all and, most likely, would never see him again. What did he have to lose?

A few minutes later Scott was standing in front of a large brick-faced building. He took a deep breath and walked in, slightly surprised that the door wasn't locked. The walls to his left and right were lined with cots. In the center of the room were several tables with games and activities set up on them. Most of the tables were full, occupied by people of all ages and races. He discarded his now empty McDonalds bag in a nearby trash can and walked up to one table, watching quietly as a group of kids played Monopoly. He jumped a little when a hand touched his shoulder. Scott quickly turned and saw the hand belonged to a young man who was smiling at him.

"Hi. My name is John. What's yours?"

"I though you people don't ask questions?" Scott said defensively.

Having a lot of experience dealing with children like Scott, John knelt down and said, "Well, we have to ask some questions, unless you like to be called 'Hey little boy' or something like that. Don't you agree?"

Scott nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess that makes since. My name is Scott." He offered his hand and shook briefly when John grasped it.

"Why don't you take those glasses off, Scott? It's not really bright in here."

"No!" Scott almost shouted. He quickly added, "I can't. I ...uhh ...my eyes are extremely sensitive to any kinda light. I get real bad headaches if I take 'em off. I can only take 'em off when I go to sleep." Scott held his breath, praying John would believe him.

He seemed doubtful, but simply shrugged and said okay. "So, Scott, how old are you?"

"I'll be eight in January. How about you?"

John chuckled. Most kids didn't ask him that. "I'm twenty-five." John asked Scott what sports he liked, what his favorite color was, and other such trivial questions as he gave the boy a tour of the shelter. Finally, as they entered the room they'd started in, he asked, "So, how long have you been walking, Scott?"

Scott tensed a little. "About a week or so I guess."

"Where are you parents?" John noticed Scott tense up. *Better be careful with this kid, John. He's as sharp as a tack.* He was sure Scott was answering his questions honestly, but he gave as little information as possible. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Scott relaxed visibly but warning bells were going off in his head. *I'd better watch this guy, he's asking to many questions.*

"Why don't you get to know some of the other kids? I have to go in the kitchen and help get lunch ready." John walked off towards the kitchen without waiting for Scott to answer.

Distrustful of the man now, Scott waited a few minutes then walked over to the kitchen. He pushed the door open slightly and peaked in. About half a dozen men and women were scurrying around doing different tasks. He looked for John and saw the man slip through a door in the corner. Apparently, quests were allowed in the kitchen because no one said anything when Scott walked in. He went unnoticed as he walked over to the door John had walked through. He placed his ear to the door. John was talking low so Scott could hardly hear him, but he heard enough. The phrases 'eight year old boy', 'runaway, possibly abused', something about a foster home soon, and 'pick him up tomorrow morning at eight' drifted within his hearing.

*She lied to me. I knew it!* Hurt flowed through him. *Why did she lie to me? Well, I'm not staying here. I'm _not_ going into another foster home.* He walked back to the large room he'd first walked into. He found an unoccupied bed, put his backpack on it to use as a pillow, and lay quietly until lunch was called. That night, while everyone else was sleeping, Scott ran away.

_TBC_


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Copyright 3/03  
Updated: 3/26/2008  
Word Count: 2,147

* * *

Benjamin Franklin Davis ran as fast as his eight-year-old feet could carry him. *I guess today was the wrong day to check the mail.* He'd run away from home (if you could really call it that) two months earlier. His cousin, Cameron, had been taken away by his grandmother to live with her, leaving him alone with his alcoholic uncle. He hated his Uncle Jerry from the day he'd first meat him and was sure the feelings were mutual. The only reason he agreed to take Ben in after his parents died was because the state would pay him to do so. Instead of using the money to buy food and clothes, Jerry had spent most of the money on alcohol and poker games.

Cameron had kept in touch with Ben through letters, which was why he was running now. He'd been checking the mail for a letter from Cam and his uncle had chosen that exact moment to come home. Upon seeing his uncle, Ben took off running but Jerry had already seen him and was chasing him. Of course, this also happened to be one of those rare days when his Uncle Jerry was sober.

"Hey, you ungrateful little bastard," he'd yelled, "get your fucking ass back here right now."

Benny risked turning his head and was relieved to see that his uncle had stopped and was hunched over trying to catch his breath.

"Boy, if you don't get that scrawny, no-good ass of yours over here now, you'll be sorry." He screamed.

*Fat chance. It'll be a cold day in hell before I go back to you.* He chucked his uncle the finger than turned to face forward again.

And ran smack into a brown-haired boy with glasses. Both boys fell in a heap onto the sidewalk.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott walked slowly, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. He'd left the shelter three days earlier and had been walking ever sense. He stopped for a moment to look at a sign that read 'Welcome to Vinton, Iowa!'. *That's as far as I got?* He thought dejectedly. *Damn. At this rate, it'll take forever to get to New York. I gotta start making' some money so I can get a train ticket.* His thoughts were disrupted by a high pitched yelping sound. He looked around and saw a boy to his left beating what appeared to be a small dog with a stick.

*What a jerk! I gotta do something.* Scott quietly approached the other boy. As he got closer, he could see it was a puppy though he couldn't tell what breed. *Just some poor little mutt he probably picked up off the street.* The puppy seemed too be no more than three or four months old and looked at it's abuser with large, brown eyes full of fear. Even from his distance, Scott could see it was tied to a pole and was trembling uncontrollable. *He's just a little puppy. Why do people always gotta pick on people smaller than them?* He thought for a moment, turned and walked about a block away.

Scott ducked into an alley and shrugged off his book bag. Kneeling down, he unzipped it, reached in and pulled out a tape recorder he'd bought a few months earlier. *I had a lot of fun with this at the orphanage. I hope this works.* He quickly recorded a message than put it back in his bag. He walked back towards the boy and hid behind a bush a few yards away. Once there he pulled out the recorder and hit play. He quickly ran to another bush and waited. A few seconds later the recording played.

"Hey, kid!" Scott's recorded voice yelled. The boy jerked his head up and looked around. "Yeah, you! The punk beating on a poor little dog. Why don't you come over here and pick on someone your own size."

"Who said that?" the boy asked. He walked slowly towards were he thought the voice was coming from. As he approached the bush he said, "Come out and face me now and I promise not to hurt you _too_ bad."

Scott took the opportunity and ran towards the puppy. He pulled out the Swiss army knife he'd stolen from David the night he ran away and started cutting the rope.

"Gotcha jerk!" The boy yelled as he snuck around the bush. He was surprised to see only the tape recorder. "What the...." Suddenly, he looked back towards the puppy and yelled, "Get away from my puppy, you little creep!" The boy immediately took off towards Scott.

Scott stuffed the puppy into his coat just as the abuser looked up and called out to him. He stood up quickly and ran as fast as he could. After a few blocks he turned to see the stout boy hunched over, apparently trying to catch his breath.

He smiled and turned his head forward again in time to see a boy about his size running towards him. The other boy was not watching were he was running either and Scott couldn't stop. He collided with the other boy and they fell on top of each other to the ground.

"Shit." Both boys muttered as they untangled themselves and scrambled to their feet. "Sorry." A brief smile crossed each boys face as they spoke in unison again. They turned to face their respective pursuers who were now closing in on them. Benny also noticed Scott's pursuer.

"Follow me," Benny told Scott as he took off running.

Scott hesitated only a second before following the red-haired boy. They ran for several blocks before Benny made a sharp left, ran a few more yards, and jumped into what Scott figured was a dried up lake. They scrambled into a large pipe and scurried as far back as they could and still be able to see out. Over an hour passed before Benny hesitantly crawled out and looked around.

"The coast is clear." Benny said, poking his head back in the tunnel. "So what was that kid chasing you for?" he asked as Scott crawled out.

"This." Scott answered, pulling out the now-sleeping puppy. "That jerk had her tied to a light pole and was beating her with a stick. So I tricked him and cut her loose. He saw me so I stuffed her into my coat and bolted." At the sound of Scott's voice the puppy stirred. It stretched out and licked his face. Both boys laughed again and Scott snuggled the puppy close to him. He put it back in his coat and focused on the other boy. "How about you? Why was that guy chasing you?"

"My parents died in a boating accident when I was six. My Uncle Jerry, the guy who was chasing me, is my only living relative, so I had to go live with him. He's an alcoholic and used to beat me and my cousin Cameron. Cam's grandma came and took him few months ago. Uncle Jerry turned on me even worse after that, so about two weeks after Cameron left I split. He started writing to me as soon as he got to his grandma's and he still does. Every couple of days I go back and check the mail box while Uncle Jerry is at work. For some reason he came home early today."

Scott listened quietly. "My name is Scott Summers. What's yours?" He asked when Ben finished his story.

"Benjamin Franklin Davis." The boy answered. He smiled and said, "My Dad was an electrician." He shrugged his shoulders. "So, what are you gonna do with the puppy?"

"Keep her." Scott replied. "I need to think of a name for her. Wanna help?" He pulled the puppy, now awake and wiggling, out and cuddled her. "She likes to be hugged."

Ben thought for a minute than answered, a huge grin on his face. "Ever see the Care Bears?"

A slow smile spread across Scott's face. He remembered the Care Bears. It was one of the few things he did remember from his past. He remembered two baby bears, his favorite bears. The puppy was now alternating between cuddling up against Scott and tugging on his coat collar.

"Hugs!" The boys said in unison.

Scott looked down at the puppy. "Well, Hugs, what do you think? Like it?" The puppy responded by lunging towards his face and licking him enthusiastically. Both boys laughed and Scott said, "Hugs it is!"

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Four days later

In the abandoned house that Ben had been living in since he'd run away, two very worried boys watched over one very sick puppy. They'd brought her a few rope toys and bones, which she'd chewed on enthusiastically for a few hours, but she wanted nothing to do with them now. They hadn't thought much of it when little Hugs had thrown up late that first night, chalking it up to much food and to much excitement. Over the following three days though, their little puppy got progressively worse and had been throwing up blood for two days. She'd stopped eating after that first night and had barely moved for the last two days. She yelped when they touched her swollen belly and cried if they got out of her sight.

"We gotta take her to the vet, Scott. She's probably got internal injuries."

"I know Benny, but we can't. They won't do anything without a parent's permission and they'll probably suspect we're runaways. Theyll send me back to the home and you to your uncle's." Scott's voice trembled as he talked, trying hard not to cry and barely succeeding. He knelt down next to the puppy and began gently petting her head and talking softly to her. "I'm sorry, Hugs. I'm so, so sorry I didn't get to you sooner. I'm sorry that jerk hurt you so bad, and I'm sorry I can't take you to the doctor. I know it's hurts and you've been so brave." His voice started to crack as tears welled behind his eyes. He laid down next to her and gently kissed her on the bridge of her nose, receiving a kiss of his own from the weak puppy.

Hugs whimpered and starred intently at Scott as if she understood every word he said. "I know you've been trying to hold on. You hurt so bad and you're trying to hold on, but it's okay to let go, Hugs. It's okay to let go. I love you, Hugs."

The little puppy scooted closer to Scott and laid her head next to his. She licked him a few times then put her nose under his chin. If she could talk, she'd tell her new friend that she loved him too, that she didn't blame him for her hurting and that she was happy he'd rescued her from The Bad One. She'd tell him that she was just very happy to have at least lived her last days feeling happy and safe and loved.

Ben, who had laid next to the puppy when Scott had, began very gently rubbing her back. "I love you, Hugs." He whispered into her ear. "I'm gonna miss you."

Hugs would miss them both too, and she wished she could tell them that.

"She's gone." Scott said a few minutes later. "She's gone." And the little boys cried over their lost friend.

Over an hour later, when the boys finally accepted that Hugs was never going to wake up again, they got up. Scott scooped the dead puppy in his arms, wrapped her in a tattered blanket, and cradled her gently as he followed Benny into the back yard. It was over grown with long grass and weeds. They walked over by the rundown garage. Benny went inside and came out a few seconds later with two rusted old shovels. Scott gently laid the puppy down and the two boys set about the task of digging the grave. In a short time, they were satisfied that the grave was deep enough that other dogs wouldn't dig it up. Scott set his shovel down, picked up the puppy, and gently set her into the grave. The boys quickly covered the puppy and patted the dirt down. Knowing the puppy's time was growing short, Scott had found a large flat rock earlier, and had written Hugs' name on it in permanent black marker. He pulled the makeshift tombstone out of his coat pocket and pushed it firmly into the dirt.

"Good-bye, Hugs." Scott whispered. "We'll see each other again, someday."

"Good-bye, Hugs." Benny said. He pulled a flower from the ground and set it on the grave. Then he turned to Scott. The two boys looked at each other for a moment than embraced as they both started to cry. They stood like that for a long time, crying and grieving for their lost friend.

_TBC_


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Copyright 3/03  
Updated 3/26/2008  
Word Count: 3,062

Author's Note: This has been a looooooong time coming, but I've finally finished another chapter! Anyone who started reading this fic when I originally posted it might want to go back to the beginning and re-read it. I've made some signifigant changes to story since then.

* * *

"Hey, Scott, you comin' or what, man?"

Scott shook his head and looked up at the short redheaded boy who was shaking him. "Yeah, yeah, Benny, I'm comin'. Quit shaking me." Scott playfully pushed the boy away, got up and stretched. He dressed quickly then followed Benny out to the street.

"Why do you keep calling me Benny? Just call me Ben like everybody else." Ben grumbled as he and Scott walked down the narrow alley. "I _am_ older than you."

"Only by a month, Benny. I do it 'cause you're an easy target," Scott said. In truth he did it only because he knew his redheaded friend didn't mind half as much as he acted like he did.

"Yeah, well, you sound like you're calling a little kid or a dog or somethin' so just quit it okay?"

Scott was quiet for a moment as if considering the other boy's request, then smiled and said, "Whatever you say..., Benny!" Scott quickly darted ahead, laughing, while Benny chased him in mock anger. He caught up to Scott as they left the alley and threw himself at the larger boy, tackling him to the grass.

The boys wrestled around a bit, than patted themselves off and headed towards their destination, laughing and teasing each other along the way. This was a game they played nearly everyday since they'd met just a few days after Scott had runaway from the shelter.

They turned into another alley a few minutes later. Heading towards a group of boys in a shadow corner, Benny called out, "Hiya, fellas. This is the guy I been telling ya about." He turned towards Scott as they reached the other group. "Scott, meet the fellas." He introduced each boy then said, "Fellas, this is Scott. He ran away from the Nebraska state home 'bout three months ago."

A tall boy whom Scott guessed to be about twelve or thirteen walked up to Scott. "So, you're an orphan, too, huh runt?" Randy, Benny had introduced him as, sneered. Scott didn't like the look on the husky brown-haired boy's face. The sneer left the boys face as quickly as it had appeared and he extended his hand. Scott shook it briefly. "Come on kid," Randy said, "let's get the games goin'."

Scott knelt down next to a thin, blond boy who handed him a pair of dice.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Less than an hour after they'd arrived, Scott and Benny were leaving the alley. Scott with over seventy dollars more than he'd started with, Benny with almost a hundred.

"Not bad, Scott. For a first timer. You picked that up pretty quick." At the end of the alley Benny turned and said, "See ya next week fellas." One of the boys, a tall somewhat-muscular kid with piercing blue eyes and a long, ugly white scar on his cheek, glared angrily and the red head. Benny smiled in return and he and Scott walked out of the alley.

"Man, that guy looked like he was ready to kill us both, Benny," Scott said, proud of the fact that he was able to keep the fear out of his voice. Or most of it anyway. Benny seemed unfazed by the older boy's obvious anger.

"Don't worry about Spencer, Scott. He's just a hot head. Randy and the others keep him in line. He may be tough, but he knows he's just the enforcer for the others and if he messes with me they'll kick his ass. Spencer is all brawn and very little brain. That's why his old man kicked him out. Didn't want an over-grown bruiser idiot for a kid. Of course, if the prick didn't treat Spencer like he did, he might not be so mean and angry all the time."

Benny sighed. "It's a shame really. It's not Spencer's fault he's so dumb. His old man pushed him to play football practically since he could walk. One day during a game about two years ago, some kid grabbed him, picked him up, and slammed him head first into the ground. The kid was huge ya see and Spencer wasn't so big back then. The doc's all thought he was gonna die. Obviously he didn't. Then they said he'd be paralyzed. Mr. Pratt wouldn't stand for that. Wasn't no kid of his gonna be a cripple, he'd said. So he pushed Spencer harder than ever. Four months later he was walking again. He had to use crutches, but he was walking. By the time football season came around again, Spencer was back on the team.

"He was different though, his old man's training had made him bigger and stronger, but he had irreversible brain damage. He forgot most of what he'd learned and he struggled at school. On the field he played much rougher than ever before, taking out his frustration on his teammates and the other teams. The coach got real mad and threatened to kick him off the team. Spencer started fighting a lot with his old man after he went back to school. He kept calling Spencer an idiot and a bully. One day they had it out real bad and Mr. Pratt beat Spencer up. He wasn't in school for a week. Two days after he came back he was gone again. He's been on the streets for about five months now."

Scott was quiet as Benny told the story. He sighed heavily then asked, "How do you know all this?"

"Spencer and my cousin, Cameron, where real good friends. They used to let me hang around with them. Spencer's father could make Uncle Jerry look like a teddy bear at times. He used to scare the piss outta all us kids. Even Cameron."

"Didn't he even try to find his son?" Scott asked in disbelief.

"No." Benny sighed. "Mr. Pratt wasn't always that mean. He used to really care about Spencer. You could tell that even though he always pushed him so hard. Then he started dating this bitchy lady when Spencer was about six. Cameron said she hated Spencer right from the beginning. She started telling lies about Spencer. Mr. Pratt started believing her after a while and got a little mean then, but not too bad. A year before the accident he married her. Shortly after that, he started getting worse. Mr. Pratt got real distant from his son except when it came to football. Besides, I think he was glad Spencer ran away. Him and Miss Bitch had a baby two months after the accident. He has a new son now."

"That's not right," Scott said angrily.

"Yeah. I think Spencer might have been okay if Cameron had been around. The day Spencer came back to school after the accident, Cameron's grandmother took him away. Uncle Jerry never really wanted him anyway so he signed some papers, said 'Good luck kid, don't call me and I won't call you' and Cameron was gone. Then Uncle Jerry started treating me even worse. He didn't have Cam to kick around anymore, so I became his primary target. Two weeks later, which was about three days after Spencer left, I split. You know the rest."

The boys sat in silence for a few minutes before Benny finally got up and said, "Come on Scott. I'm starving let's get some burgers. McDonalds is having that five for a dollar sale again."

Smiling, Scott said, "You're always hungry, Benny."

"So are you!" Benny replied. The two boys laughed and raced off to the nearest McDonalds.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott smiled as he counted his money. *Almost a thousand dollars,* he thought happily. *Pretty soon me and Benny will have enough money to leave this dump and finally head to New York.* He put the money back into the small lockable bank and hid it in his secret space. Benny was the only other person who knew where Scott kept his money. Benny, who also had a lockable safe, had a little less than he did. *Two more days, maybe three and we'll have enough to get train tickets and still have enough left to eat with and get a decent room for a couple of nights.*

Of course, things rarely go as they are planned and Scott would soon learn the first of many harsh lessons the streets taught vulnerable little boys.

"Come on, Benny." Scott called out." If we don't hurry we'll never get a table. Scott rushed around, threw on his coat and shoes hastily as he pounded on Benny's door. "Come on, man. Hurry!"

"Keep your shirt on, Scott, I'm coming." He opened the door hopping on one foot as he put his shoe on, then bent down to tie it. "We got plenty of time."

"Man, you need a bath." Scott said as he looked over the other boy. "I told you ya shoulda took advantage of that open room." Two days earlier the boys had snuck into a hotel room of a business man who'd been absent minded and left the door unlocked. Scott had used the time to take a quick shower, but Benny had been nervous. He had washed hastily at the sink while Scott showered and refused to do anything more. Benny's hair was starting to look greasy again.

"Drop it man. It's too late to worry about that now. Besides," he said somewhat offended, "I don't smell and I ain't that dirty. Let's go." He grabbed his coat and the two boys headed towards the abandoned old motel they were to meet a group of other boys in.

"Just remember Scott, don't win too much to quick, and we gotta leave if they start getting to pissed. These guys don't play around."

"Yeah, yeah. I know Benny. I'm not an idiot. Let's just get in there, win what we can and get out. Just like always. Then we can head over to the pool hall."

Benny sighed. Scott was starting to get cocky and that was making him nervous. He was starting to mouth off to the other kids about how good he was. He'd seen what had happened to kids who got too cocky. *When Kevin gets back in a few days, I'm gonna take Scott to visit him, maybe seein' and talking to him will get him to cool off a little.* Kevin had been a lot like Scott at one time. One day it caught up to him. His big mouth had gotten him into more trouble than he could get out of and landed him a wheel chair, paralyzed from the waist down. Benny had been heading down the same path until that day. After seeing his friend in a hospital in critical condition, he'd cooled himself down and smartened up. He didn't want Scott to end up like Kevin.

Scott was silent in his confidence as he and Benny entered the motel and headed for the room number scrawled on he piece of paper Scott carried in his hand. "This is it." He said as they reached it. He reached out and knocked twice, counted to five silently, then knocked twice more. The door opened and the two boys walked in. They were relieved to see that they weren't the only young ones there and to see many familiar faces. There were two boys they knew were also eight.

They paid the boy at the door their five-dollar entrance fee and walked over to two tables side by side, each boy taking an empty seat at different tables. The boys had agreed to sit at separate tables to increase their winnings, but also to stay close together in case of trouble. "Okay," a tall, lean girl at Scott's table said, "the game is five card draw, deuces are wild. One-dollar ante, minimum bet is fifty cents. Winner deals the next hand."

"That's it." Scott said. "You're starting that low?" He couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice. *How are we ever gonna get to New York at this rate? Even Jack started higher than this.*

The dealer glared at Scott but said nothing as she dealt the first hand. Benny shot Scott what he knew to be Benny's 'Shut up before you get us in trouble you fool' look. Scott returned it by sticking out his tongue briefly.

Two hours later Scott had more than triple what he'd started with. Benny, while not doing quite as well, was still ahead. However, Benny was handling it much better, grinning on occasion and making ideal chitchat with the other players at his table. Scott, on the other hand, had become a bit loud and (partly due to the four cans of Coke and excessive bags of sugar daddies) very hyper. Though he managed to keep a straight face during the game, once the hand was over he could barely stay in his seat. On this last hand he jumped out of his seat, laughing a little louder than he intended. The glares from the others at his table made him sit down quickly and mumble an apology.

"I'm out." The girl across from Scott said. "Me too," declared the other two boys at the table simultaneously. That left only Scott and the original dealer.

"Oh, come on, guys," Scott complained, "I'm just getting warmed up!" Scott looked at each one expectantly.

"Yeah, well, we're all broke." The shorter of the boys said. "Maybe some other time."

Scott turned to the remaining player. "Well, how about you?"

"Sorry kid," she replied as she stood up, "but I'm just about tapped myself." She turned to leave then looked over her shoulder. "Ya know, you're a pretty cute little kid. You'd better learn to check that mouth at the door before someone decides to make you not so cute anymore." She leaned over and ruffled Scott's hair as she kissed his check. Then she turned and left.

Scott, annoyed at being called a little kid yet again, glared at the girl's back for a moment then turned to Benny grinning. "I think she likes me," he said.

"Forget it, Scott. She's fifteen and taken." Benny whispered. "She's right though buddy, you'd better learn to curb your mouth around here." Benny turned back to his table and collected his winnings.

As Scott looked around, he realized that most of the other players had either left already or were finishing their last hands. He gasped in shock and pain as a large hand grasped him by the back of the neck. He tried to pry the fingers away, but it was no use. His attacker was much stronger.

"Hey, Ben," the thus far nameless attacker said, "whatta ya say I teach your friend here what we do to smart ass punks around here."

Benny turned, cursing under his breath. "Come on, Lenny, put him down. He ain't normally like this. He just had a little too much sugar today. Besides, he's a newbie. Between that and the sugar he just got a little too excited."

Lenny glared at Benny and was about to say something when another boy came over to him. "Put the boy down, Lenny. I told you before not to attack the players. If you can't learn to control your temper, _you're_ outta here. Don't make me tell you again." The boy glared at Lenny until he relented and released Scott.

"Shaun, I was just ...I just thought I'd teach...."

The other boy interrupted him. "I don't pay you to think, Lenny. I pay you to do exactly what I tell you to do. Now, go to the store and get some more sodas and ice. We got another group coming in less than an hour." He pulled a wad of money out of his pocket and handed it to Lenny. "Get me a pack of gum while youre at it."

Scott breathed a sigh of relief as Lenny released him. He rubbed his neck and watched the exchange between the other two boys in stunned silence. Although Lenny was twice as big as the other boy, he seemed intimidated by Shaun. After he was given the money, Lenny stalked out.

Shaun then turned his attention to Scott and Benny. He stared intently at Scott as he spoke to the younger boy. "Listen up kid cuz I'm only saying this once. You seem like a nice enough kid, and I know Benny so I'll buy the sugar story, but if you ever disrupt another game like you did today I'll personally show you why that's a very bad idea. Understand?"

Scott gulped and nodded his head yes.

"Good. Now why don't you boys get going I've got to get this place cleaned up." He turned and started cleaning one of the tables as Scott and Benny headed towards the door. When they were about half way there Shaun turned and said, "Scott." Both boys stopped and turned around. "You're pretty good for a kid your age. I'll be keeping my eye on you. Pretty soon you'll be good enough to play at my table." He abruptly turned and went back to his cleaning.

About two blocks from the hotel, Benny grabbed Scott's arm and stopped him. "What the _fuck_ were you thinking man? You could have got the shit kicked out of both of us. I _told_ you to watch your mouth!" Benny's face was as red as his hair. Scott couldn't help but take a step back; he'd never seen Benny so mad before. At least not at him anyway.

"I'm sorry man. I just got a little too excited, I guess."

Benny released Scott's arm and sighed. He wanted to stay furious with Scott, but he just couldn't. "Man, I don't know if I should kick your skinny butt or congratulate you." A huge smile crossed Benny's face.

"Congratulate me?" Scott asked, his confusion evident on his face as well as in his voice.

"Yeah, man. Shaun hardly ever compliments _anybody_ and never kids our age. You are _so_ on his good list!" He stood for a minute as Scott absorbed what he'd told his friend. A slow smile spread across Scott's face. "Come on," Benny said, "let's go to the 7-Eleven and get a couple of slurpees to celebrate.

The boys stared at each other for a second then said in unison, "Brain freeze!" They raced each other to the store, laughing the whole way.

_TBC_


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Started: 3/03  
Completed: 3/26/2008  
Word Count: 1,109

* * *

"Hey, Scott, we've been friends for a long time now, haven't we?"

"Yeah, Benny."

Benny paused, unsure of how to broach the subject that had been in the back of his mind since he'd met Scott. He finally just decided to come right out and ask. "Why do you always wear those glasses? I know you said your eyes are sensitive to real bright light, but you even wear them inside."

Scott sighed and considered changing the subject. He decided to level with his friend and prayed that Benny wouldn't turn on him. He'd been inside for a few hours and, through trial and error, had learned that spending time out of the sun seriously diminished the possibility that the beams would shot out. He turned slightly to Benny's left, closed his eyes, and took off his glasses. Then he opened his eyes.

"Cool!" Benny exclaimed. Your eyes are red! And they kinda ...glow!"

"You're not freaked?" Scott asked, putting his glasses back on.

"No. I think it's awesome."

"Come with me. I have to show you something."

"What?" Benny asked hesitantly.

"Just come with me. My eyes don't just glow, but I can't show you here."

The sun was especially bright that day; the air unusually warm, and Scott could feel the tingling increase behind his eyes almost immediately. The two boys walked quietly, Benny at Scott's side About a half an hour later they got to a small, rarely used park encircled by trees. Scott stopped in the middle. "Step back," he told Benny. He glanced around nervously, titled his head back, and took off his glasses. A bright red beam shot from Scott's eyes. After just a few seconds he closed his eyes and put his glasses back on. He then looked expectantly at his friend.

Benny was grinning from ear to ear. "Awesome! You shoot lasers from your eyes!"

"Keep your voice down!" Scott hissed. "And they're not lasers. They don't shoot through things ...they kinda ...blow things up." He told a wide-eyed Benny about his tree at the home. "Aren't you scared of me now?"

"Hell no! You ain't no different. Besides, I think it's really cool! I wish my eyes were like that."

Scott stared at his friend in disbelief. "No, you don't. Most of the people at the home were scared of me or hated me and called me a freak. Besides, because of these stupid glasses, everything I see is in shades of red."

"Oh, that sucks," Benny said after a moment. "Don't worry, Scott, I won't tell no one." He paused for again. There was something else he wanted to ask his friend about. "So, who's Alex?"

Scott stiffened at the question. "Why?"

"You call his name when you sleep sometimes. He's someone important to you ain't he?" Benny reached out to Scott, gently touching his friend's shoulder. "Talk to me, Scott."

Scott sighed heavily. "He's my kid brother. They took him away from me." Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks, but he held them back. Slowly, he told Benny about his parents' deaths, the home, Alex's adoption, and the way the Blandings' had treated him. A tear escaped but Scott quickly brushed it away. "I just don't get it Benny. I was good. I swear. They said they wanted _both_ of us. What suddenly made them think I was so bad?" Another tear escaped, but he quickly brushed it away too.

"It's not your fault, Scott. _You_ didn't do anything wrong." Benny kept his hand on Scott's shoulder. It was the only comfort he could offer. He didn't know what else to say to make Scott feel better. "There's more to it isn't there?" He asked after a moment. Something told him there was something else Scott hadn't told him.

Silence hung heavy in the air as Scott considered telling Benny the rest. Finally, he turned and faced his friend. "Yeah, there is. Let's go home and I'll tell ya."

The two boys walked home in silence. Upon entering the house, they went over to the worn out couch in the corner of the living room and sat. Scott ran his hands over the dingy blue, almost thread bare arm as he thought back to one of the worst days of his life. He told Ben about the morning hed gone to find Alex.

Ben listened quietly as Scott told his story. When he finished Scott put his head down trying to hide his tears. Ben reached out and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Maybe he was just scared, Scott. Maybe he was just scared you were going to take him with you. Sounds like he was happy there."

Scott said nothing just shrugged his shoulders and rubbed the tears from his eyes. In his heart, he knew Benny was right. Alex had seemed happy until he'd seen Scott's bags, but he was to hurt to care what the reason was. "Maybe. I just wanted to say good-bye and that I loved him. It doesn't matter." He didn't sound convincing, even to himself.

Scott and Benny just looked at each other for a moment before Scott broke the silence. "Come on, let's eat then go see if anyone's at the pool hall yet. We need to get some more money if we ever want to get to New York."

Ben nodded. "OK." He didn't know what else to say.

Both boys walked into the kitchen. Scott pulled a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a bag of pretzels out of the closet while Ben went outside and got them each a juice box. The refrigerator, like the other appliances in the house didn't work, but at least with the cold weather they could keep juice and milk boxes outside. Peanut butter sandwiches and juice weren't either boy's idea of a good lunch, but they both agreed that they couldnt keep spending money on eating out. Besides, there were only so many places two boys their age could eat without people getting suspicious and asking where their parents were.

"Last two." Benny said as he put two grape juice boxes on the table. "There's only four more milks too. We'll have to stop at the store on the way home."

"Yeah. I know. Hopefully, we'll win enough today and tomorrow and we won't have to worry about. We'll be on a train to New York." Scott replied.

The boys ate quickly then cleaned up their mess and headed for the pool hall. If they were lucky, they wouldn't have to worry about food shopping because they'd be on a bus to New York by morning.

_TBC_


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Completed: 4/12/2008  
Word Count: 3,717

* * *

"So, Benny, who's this Kevin guy you keep saying you want me to meet? What's he like?"

"I told you, he's a friend. I've known him for a while now. He's a good guy, you'll like him." Benny replied to his friend's question. "We'll go meet him later today. He should be home around two o'clock."

"Okay." Scott let the matter drop. If Benny said Kevin was a good guy then that was good enough for him. He was curious about the guy though. Benny spoke pretty highly of him. Although Benny had gone to see Kevin twice since they'd met, Scott had yet to meet him. The first time Benny had gone to see his friend; Scott had had a bad headache and had stayed home. The second time, Benny and Scott had had a fight and Benny hadn't even asked Scott to come with him.

"So," Scott asked as he stretched out on the coach, "what are we going to do until then?"

"Well," Benny paused for a moment as he looked at his watch which read 11:45, "the pool hall opens in about fifteen minutes. We can shoot some pool for a while, see if we can make a couple bucks."

Scott sat up quickly. "Yeah, that's a great idea." His stomach grumbled as he stood. "Ahhh, let's eat first. My stomach is growling."

Benny laughed. "Man, I'm surprised you're so skinny. You're _always_ hungry!"

Scott laughed with his friend. "Yeah, I know. I can't help it. It's a Summers thing. My Mom used to sa...." Scott's voice trailed off and sadness filled his eyes. For a minute, he was lost in a memory. He was sitting at a picnic bench with his Dad, brother, grandfather, and another man he couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried. They were laughing and eating. His mother came to the table with a bowl of macaroni salad (his favorite), smiling, and said, "The draw back to being in the Summers' family is that the men eat you out of house and home." He hadn't really understood what that meant, but he'd laughed hard anyway. He shook his head and looked back up at Benny.

"Ummm, sorry. I was just remembering something. Let's eat." He smiled at his friend again, but it was a much smaller smile this time.

"No problem. What are we going to have today? We don't have much left. We drank the last two milk boxes with breakfast this morning. There's only two pieces of bread left and only about a spoonful or two of peanut butter. There's no jelly either."

"How about the cheese crackers or the apples?" Scott asked as he walked towards the kitchen.

Benny followed him. "I forgot about those. I haven't eaten any for a while, so I guess we should still have some. Let's just pull out everything we've got and then decide what to eat."

The two boys entered the kitchen and went about getting out what food they had left. A few minutes later there was two apples, one open pack of pretzel sticks, the almost empty jar of peanut butter, two cans of coke, four bottles of water, three packs of cheese crackers, and two slices of bread laid out on the counter. Benny was pulling the bread out of the bag as Scott set a half empty box of chocolate, cinnamon and powered donuts on the counter.

"Hmmm, not much left." Scott said as he stared at the count.

"Nope."

They were both quiet for a few minutes as they looked at the meager amount of food they had left. They both knew they'd either have to buy more food while they were out that day or just eat dinner out that night. Neither wanted to stay any longer then they had too. They planned to leave early tomorrow morning to catch a train to New York.

Scott broke the silence first. "Why don't we just eat the apples and split a peanut butter sandwich for lunch and save the rest for dinner tonight, except the donuts, which we can have for breakfast before we catch the train. I really don't want to go food shopping again."

"Sounds good to me."

That settled, the boys set about getting lunch ready. They ate quickly then put the rest of their stuff back in the cabinet. Once they'd cleaned up, they headed out for the pool hall.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

"Come on. That's your best shot," Scott laughed as his opponents shot went wide. "My grandmother could shoot better than that." The ball bounced off the side and knocked one of Scott's into the hole. "You keep shooting like that and I won't have to play at all."

Benny grimaced as the older boy's face started to turn red. He tugged on Scott's shirt and whispered, "Cool it, Scott. That kid can kick you're ass in about two seconds if he wants to. Besides, you know what Denis said, if you keep it up, he's gonna kick us out. I know we're leaving tomorrow, but we did plan to come back tonight after seeing Kevin, remember?"

Scott glared at Benny a moment then relented. He knew his friend was right. He looked at the other boy. "Sorry, dude," he mumbled. Scott took his next shot and sunk it. A few minutes later, the game was over and Scott collected his winnings. He was about to set up for another game when Benny tapped his shoulder.

"We gotta get going, Scott. It takes about twenty minutes to get to Kevin's house from here and it's a little past one thirty now."

Scott nodded, "Okay." He extended his hand to his opponent. "Good game."

The older boy grasped Scott's hand. Instead of releasing Scott's hand after they shook, he tightened his grip. "You better learn to keep your smart ass mouth shut boy. Not everybody here has my patience and Dennis can't do shit once we leave this place. Got me?"

Scott gulped and nodded 'yes'.

The boys were walking towards the exit when the other boy called out to them. "Hey, kid. Good game. I'll get you next time." His smile was genuine and non-threatening. "But you really do need to watch your mouth until you have the body to back it up."

Scott remained silent. He merely smiled and waved goodbye as he and Benny left.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott stood on the porch and watched the passing cars as Benny knocked on the door. He didn't turn when he heard the door open and Benny greeted his other friend.

"Hey, Ben, how's it going?" Scott heard the slap of flesh on flesh as the two friends clasped hands. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, it has. But _I'm_ not the one who went away for almost two months." Ben released Kevin's hand and tapped Scott on the shoulder. "Come on, Scott."

Scott turned at the sound of his name and was surprised when he saw Kevin. While Benny had told him a little about Kevin, he hadn't mentioned that Kevin was crippled. He was some what ashamed of himself as he remembered what his parents had taught him about staring at people, but he couldn't help it. He glared at Benny when the shorter boy punched him in the side and hissed, "Stop staring."

Kevin didn't seem to mind though and simply smiled. He extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Scott."

Scott quickly over came his shock and shook Kevin's hand. "Sorry. Nice to meet you too."

"No problem. Come on in, guys," Kevin said as he wheeled himself back and motioned the boys inside.

They both complied, Scott entering behind Benny. Kevin moved into the kitchen with the younger boys close behind. The first thing Scott noticed was that the counters were lower than usual. The table also seemed slightly lower than normal. He noticed a stick with a handle beside the refrigerator, which he doubted was a broom.

"You guys want a snack?" Kevin asked.

He got his answer in stereo. "Yes."

Kevin laughed and made his way to the refrigerator. Scott and Benny sat at the table and watched as Kevin gathered items for their snack. He pulled a tray off of the counter then opened the refrigerator door. Carefully balancing the tray on his lap, he pulled a half-gallon container of milk and placed it on the tray. Then he reached beside the refrigerator again and grabbed the stick. He wheeled himself over a few feet to a closet and opened the door. Using the claw, he grabbed a bag of cookies and placed them on the tray, along with an open pack of napkins. He shut the door and then moved to the cabinets over top of the sink where he carefully pulled out three small glasses. Then he wheeled himself over to the table.

Scott offered to pour the milk while Kevin divided up the cookies.

"That claw thing is pretty cool," Scott said as they started to eat. "Ever break anything with it?"

Kevin chuckled. "Yeah, I'm on my second glass set now. Each 'finger' has a small pad on the end to keep it from scratching anything, but it took some practice getting used to it. I broke three glasses the first day alone. Two by dropping them and one just from squeezing to hard," he paused and took a bite of a cookie. "It took some time to learn how hard to squeeze to pick up certain things and how hard was too hard. I've gotten pretty good at it though, so I haven't dropped or broken anything in a while. It also helps that I bought a thicker glass set this time. I've got one of those things in just about every room."

Scott really wanted to know what happened to put Kevin in a wheel chair, but he didn't want to seem rude. If Kevin wanted him to know, he'd tell Scott when he was ready. They talked about pool and poker tricks while eating. When they were done with their snack, the boys helped Kevin clean up. Then they all moved to the living room. The boys made themselves comfortable on the couch and Kevin adjusted his wheel chair to sit across from them.

"So, Scott," Kevin began, "Ben's told me quite a bit about you. I'm sure you're wondering why he didn't tell you why I'm in a wheelchair."

Scott nodded 'yes'.

"Because he thought it would have a better impact on you. Especially after I tell you why I'm in it. I haven't always been crippled, Scott. I've only been in this chair for about a year. I was almost sixteen when this happened. From what Ben tells me, you're just as much of a cocky smart ass as I was."

Kevin paused. Scott remained quiet as he let what Kevin said sink in. He had a pretty good idea he knew what Kevin might say next.

"And that my friend, is what landed me in this chair. I was good at card games, still am, and the better I got the more I shot my mouth off about how good I was. One day, I talked too much shit to the wrong people. I was walking home from a poker game when two of the guys I'd beaten jumped me. They beat me within an inch of my life and took all the money I'd won that day. I wound up in the hospital with a concussion, four fractured ribs, and two damage vertebrae in my back. After I got out of the hospital, I spent three months in a rehabilitation center. Even though I do have some feeling in my legs and feet, it's not enough to support my weight. I'll never walk again. All because I couldn't keep my big mouth shut and just play the game."

Kevin paused again and stared intently at Scott, who didn't know what to say. He didn't want to end up like Kevin. He hadn't realized how much trouble a little smart mouthing could cause. He wanted to be angry with Benny for talking about him behind his back, but he couldn't. Benny was just looking out for him and trying to make sure he didn't get himself into a situation like Kevin had.

"I know it's exciting when you win, but you have to learn when to celebrate and when to keep quiet. Let me tell you, the trash talking just ain't worth it. It hurts, a lot. Not now, but while I was in the hospital and going though therapy, it hurt like a son of-a-bitch. Especially the physical therapy. It even hurt for a while afterwards. I won't say I'm not trying to scare you, because I am. Believe me, Scott, this is something you _never_ want to have to deal with."

Scott nodded, but couldn't say anything yet. He had never stopped to consider the consequences when he'd been mouthing off. It was all just harmless fun. Or so he'd thought. Remembering back to looks on the faces of some of the people he'd played against and was a smart ass too, he realized just how lucky he was.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Scott?"

Scott nodded, "Yeah, I do."

"Good, because I'd hate to see you end up in one of these," Kevin tapped the wheels of his chair. "I really would. You seem like a nice kid, smart too. Don't mouth off anymore."

"I won't," Scott promised.

Something Kevin said early made Scott curious. "If you weren't even sixteen when this happened, that means you're only about seventeen now. How come you got a house and live on your own. I thought you had to be at least eighteen?"

"Technically, I don't. The house is in my brother's name until I turn eighteen then it reverts to me. Legally, I live with him. He leaves some of his stuff in the spare bedroom and comes by a couple times a month to check on me. Keeps people from asking questions."

Scott hated to pry, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What about your parents? Don't they want you anymore?"

Kevin sighed. "They never wanted a third child. I was a _very_ big surprise. My parents didn't think they could have any more kids at their ages. I have a sister who is twenty years older than I am, and a brother who is almost fifteen years older. They were already in their early thirties when they had my sister. I see Sarah and Joseph more often than I see my parents." Remarkably, there was no bitterness in his voice as Kevin spoke. He paused then added, "I think the only reason my parents ever come to visit is because Sarah and Joe guilt them into it." There was a hint of sadness in his voice then.

"Do they hate you now, like Spencer's dad hates him?"

"It's not so much that they hate me. I'm pretty sure they don't. My parents aren't like Spencer's dad. Like I said, they just never wanted a third child. They never paid much attention to me growing up." He held up his hand to stall Scott's next question. "They do love me Scott, they had just planned their lives differently. When I came along, it kinda screwed everything up. My parents are pretty well to do. They had planned to start traveling when Joe went to college."

Joe was actually more of a father to me than my dad was. He used to baby-sit me a lot. He taught me how to ride a bike and throw a baseball and hook a worm for fishing. When he graduated high school and left for college, my parents hired a nanny to take care of me. They started traveling around the world, just like they'd always planned to do. Sure, they'd always bring me home lots of cool stuff, but I never got to go with them. Not even in the summer. And they rarely asked me about school, sports, girls, or anything I was in to. Joe always did."

"About five years ago, Joe got married. His wife, Lynn, is pretty cool and we get along pretty well. She agreed to move close to my parent's house so that Joe and I could still hang out together. They used to take me out to the movies and stuff. A little over two years ago, they had my nephew, so between work and caring for little Zachary, they couldn't spend as much time with me. I love my nephew dearly, but I got a little jealous of him. I needed something to fill the void. That's when I learned how to play cards. I picked it up pretty fast. Joe noticed how I was changing, but there wasn't much he could do. Just before Zach was born, they had turned the spare room into a nursery, which is where I used to sleep when I visited them, so they couldn't take me in.

"Anyway, when they found out what happened, my parents made sure I had the best care possible. After I got out of the hospital and rehab, they still couldn't deal with my condition. It was my choice to move out. They were rarely home anyway. I told them I didn't want to be a burden to the staff and that I could take care of myself, so they had this house altered to be handicapped friendly and gave it to me. I moved in about five months ago."

Scott didn't want to end up in a wheelchair. He didn't have rich parents like Kevin. No one would adopt a crippled kid who shot some kind of crazy beams from his eyes. Scott knew if anything like that ever happened to him, he'd end up in some kind of home and be alone for the rest of his life. *No way am I going to let that happen. From now on, I keep my mouth shut and just play the game.*

"Don't pity me, Scott. Just be careful, okay?"

"I will," he promised. He was quiet for a few more minutes as he thought about everything Kevin had told him. Then he said, "If you don't mind me asking, what about your sister? You haven't said much about her. Why couldn't you live with her?"

"It's okay, Scott, I don't mind. Sarah visited me as much as she could when I was growing up, but she was already in college by the time I was born. She got a great job in Arizona almost right after she graduated, which keeps her pretty busy. I fly out there every summer for two weeks to visit and she calls me once a week. Her husband is pretty cool too.

"When I had my accident, Sarah took time off from work and flew out to see me. She stayed with me almost the whole time I was in the hospital. They have two young kids, so her husband, Daniel, stayed home to take care of them while Sarah was here. When he heard I'd never walk again, he put in a wheelchair ramp and made some other adjustments to the house to make things easier for me when I visit."

Benny, who had remained silent until that point asked, "Are you going to visit her again this summer?"

"Yeah, she's already looked into what arrangements need to be made with the airport."

"How . . ." Scott asked Kevin more questions about his brother and sister, which Kevin gladly answered. Scott could tell that he really liked talking about them and especially about his niece and nephews.

"Oh, and Sarah is pregnant. She's going to have her baby next month. Another girl. They're going to name her Kaylee." Kevin glanced at his watch as he finished speaking. It was almost five o'clock. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm getting hungry again. Want some pizza?"

"Sure," both boys responded.

Kevin ordered two large, plain pizzas. Scott and Benny went to the kitchen with Kevin and helped him get sodas, plates, and paper towels for the three of them. They brought the items back into the living room and watched TV until the pizza arrived.

While they ate, Kevin asked Scott about his family. Scott didn't mind talking about his parents, but he really didn't want to talk much about Alex, especially about what happened with 'Lex after he'd run away, but Kevin had been really nice to him and had answered all his questions, so Scott did the same. He told Kevin all about his Dad being an Air Force pilot and letting him help fly the family's plane sometimes. He talked about how close he was to his dad and how his mom used to sing to him and his brother at night.

Benny, who had already knew about Scott's family, remained quiet, and was content just to listen. Kevin asked almost as many questions as Scott had asked him.

"How come your grandparents didn't take you guys in?" Kevin asked after Scott had told him about the accident that killed his parents.

"Miss Branson said they told her they couldn't take care of us and that we'd be better off with a new family." Scott felt tears begin to form in his eyes but quickly blinked them away. He changed the subject and told Kevin about his friend, Jack, who had taught him how to play pool, poker and the harmonica.

"Do you have the harmonica on you? Want to play something for us?" Kevin asked.

"Sure." Scott pulled the harmonica out of his pocket and played for a few minutes.

He was relieved when he stopped playing and Benny finally said it was time to go before Kevin could ask any more questions.

"It's getting late Scott, we should get going if were going to get a few more games in before the pool hall closes."

"Yeah," Scott looked at his own watch. It was six thirty. "You're right." He inwardly sighed in relief. He wouldn't have to talk about the incident with Alex.

Scott and Benny said their goodbyes to Kevin then left. They both remained quiet as they walked towards the pool hall.

_TBC_


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Copyright 11/08/2008  
Word Count: 1230

* * *

"YES!" Scott nearly started dancing as he sunk the winning shot. Remembering his promise to Kevin, he calmed himself quickly. He knew Kevin was right, that if he didn't start watching himself, he'd wind up like Kevin or worse. Dying just wasn't something he wanted to do anytime soon. Or winding up crippled, for that matter. Unlike Kevin, he didn't have rich parents to help him out.

From the look on the face of the kid he'd just beaten, it was time to move on. He reached out and grabbed the money on the side of the pool table. "Nice game, fellas. Same time tomorrow?"

For a split second, Scott was sure the tall, skinny kid was going to start a fight. Luckily, he simply nodded and said, "Sure. I need a chance to win my money back." The two boys shook hands.

Scott turned his attention to the other pool table in time to see Benny sink his winning shot. The girl he was playing against smiled and patted Benny on the back. "Good game, Benny. Again?"

Benny checked his watch. It was getting late and he was hungry. He looked up to see a beaming Scott waiting for him. "Not tonight, Sam. Tomorrow?"

She thought about it for a minute then said, "Sure. My Mom won't be back for a few more days and my so-called babysitter is clueless. See you tomorrow, same time."

"See ya."

Scott walked over to Benny and the boys exited the building. After they were several blocks away, Scott broke the silence. "I don't know about you, but I did pretty damn good. I made about a hundred and thirty bucks!"

"Close. I made about one-twenty." He paused then stopped. Scott stopped beside him and Benny added, "You did good tonight, Scott, and I don't mean the money.

Knowing Benny meant how he'd kept himself under control the whole time, Scott smiled and nodded. "Kevin was right. It just isn't worth taking a chance of pissing off the wrong person. I don't want to wind up in the hospital or a grave."

The two boys started walking again. They turned into the alley they usually used as a short cut home. About halfway through they heard an angry voice call out from behind them. "Hey, Punk. Fancy meeting you here."

Scott gulped. He knew that voice. Without turning around Scott said, "We don't want any trouble, Lenny. We're just going home." He really wished they hadn't taken the alley this time. There was a large chain link fence blocking the way out. Normally, it wasn't a problem for him and Benny to scale it, but he knew that Lenny was faster than he looked and would catch one, if not both, of them before they got halfway up it. The boys turned and faced Lenny as he began to speak.

"I don't care what you _want_. I've caught a lot of shit that night because of you. Made me angry and I screwed up a few little things. Shaun chewed me out three more times afterwards. He ain't never bitched at me even once before you showed up. That second night you boys showed up he wouldn't even let me work. Guess he was afraid I'd hurt you or make a scene or something. I lost _a lot_ of money that night because of you and you're gonna pay for that." He turned his attention to Benny. "The way I see it, you're as much at fault as he is. I'm gonna pound you while he watches, then kill that little bastard."

Without another word the burly teenager launched himself at Scott and Benny. He caught Scott in the jaw with a vicious blow that sent him reeling. He crashed into a garbage can then dropped to the ground, stunned. He watched helplessly as Lenny attached Benny. With every blow to his friend's head and body, Scott flinched. He struggled to his feet, but flopped back to the ground as an intense pain spiked through his head. After a few minutes, he was finally able to get to his feet.

With a shout of rage, he launched himself at the bully's torso. Lenny dropped his victim unceremoniously to the ground. Benny's head struck the ground with a sickening thud. Lenny shook of the attack easily. He grabbed the back of Scott's shirt and tossed him to the side.

"I'll get to you soon enough." He said without so much as a glance at Scott.

Scott hit the brick wall of a building and dropped to his knees. He looked up and was horrified to see blood pooling by his friend's head. Lenny approached Benny again. Scott felt a deep rage boiling within him as Lenny approached Benny again. As the older boy reached down to grab Benny, Scott reacted. Without really thinking about it, he pulled the visor off of his face and opened his eyes wide. The full force of the blast hit the older boy squarely in his back and sent him flying several feet. He landed in a limp heap and didn't move.

Still unable to stand, Scott scrambled to his friend's side on his hands and knees. He winced as a piece of broken glass pierced his hand, but ignored the pain. When he reached Benny, he put his hand on the other boy's back and gave him a gentle shake. "Benny, are you okay?" There was no response.

"Don't worry, buddy, I'm going to get you some help." Scott stumbled to his feet and back out the alley the way they'd came. He staggered the few extra feet to a nearby phone booth and called 911. He gave the 911 operator his first name and their location, but refused to stay on the line until help arrived. He wanted . . . no, he _needed_ to get back to his injured friend. He hung up once the necessary information was conveyed and raced back to the alley as fast as his bruised body would let him.

Benny hadn't moved an inch in the time he'd been gone. Scott sat down beside him and gently pulled his friend into his lap. "I'm sorry, Benny. I am so, so sorry. This is all my fault. He wouldn't have attacked us if I've learned to keep my big mouth shut sooner." Tears rolled down his cheeks and Scott made no attempt to stop them. He pulled his coat off and set it aside then removed his t-shirt. He quickly put the coat back on then hastily folded the t-shirt into a makeshift bandage and pressed it to a large cut on Benny's forehead. "Please don't die on me. Everybody I care about either dies or leaves me. Please, please don't leave me. I don't want to be alone."

He prayed Benny would wake up and smile at him, or yell at him, anything other than that God-awful silence. But Benny never budged or so much as batted an eyelash. He'd only known Benny for three months, but they'd grown close in that time. Bound together by a similar past and the harshness of life on the streets, the boys had become inseparably. They were certain they'd be best friends forever. Scott's tears continued to fall as he gently rocked back and forth, Benny's head cradled in his lap, and listened to the approaching sirens.

_TBC_

NOTES: See, I haven't forgotten this fic. I do apologize for the long delay between chapters. I will _try_ to get the next chapter out sooner. Many, many thanks to those who have sent me feedback on this fic and who continue to follow it, even after all this time.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Completed 5/03/2009  
Word Count: 1,416

Author's Note: I have yet _another_ new beta. Two actually, Cheryl and one who prefers to remain anonymous, so she shall. They're both great! I have, with the help of my anonymous beta, gone back and made some corrections to the older chapters, but they are minor and mostly just grammar/punctuation fixes. Sorry it has taken so long to update, I will _try_ to update more regularly!

* * *

Scott listened quietly, unseen by the adults, as the doctor spoke to the police officer. He kept the door open just a crack, ready to jump back into bed at a moments notice. He couldn't see anything because he was too afraid to peek out of the door, worried he might be seen.

"The larger boy, Lenny Wilson, who apparently started the fight, has a nasty bruise covering most of his back, a severe concussion, and some swelling around his spine, but he'll be fine with some rest. The concussion probably accounts for the weird things he was saying."

Scott guessed the officer must have given the doctor a funny look because he didn't say anything, but the doctor explained anyway.

"Lenny was saying some pretty odd things about one of the younger boys." There was the sound of shuffling papers, and then the doctor continued, "Scott Summers. Something about the boy shooting lasers out of his eyes or something.

"Scott required six stitches to close a deep cut on his cheek. He has some bruising around his ribs and back and a slight concussion. We'll be keeping him here overnight for observation. DCFS will be picking him up sometime tomorrow afternoon."

*Not a chance.* There was no way Scott was going back to another group home. He was sure he felt his heart skip a beat as the doctor said Benny's name.

"The third boy is the worst off of the three. He has several broken ribs, a concussion, and a skull fracture. He's in a coma. We don't know when, or if, he'll come out of it." The doctor paused for several seconds. Scott held his breath; afraid of what he was sure the doctor was going to say. "I doubt the child will ever come out it. He's also on a ventilator to help his breathing."

Scott let out his breath in a rush, feeling as though he'd been sucker punched. Benny might die and even if he didn't, he might never wake up again and it was entirely his fault. The cop started to speak, but Scott wasn't listening. Shoulders slumped, he made his way to his bed and climbed back in. He leaned back against his pillow, ignoring the slight pain in his ribs from were he'd crashed into the garbage can. Slowly, his eyes slid shut. He tried to fight the pull of sleep, but it finally claimed him, and he slipped unwillingly into a restless slumber.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

The overwhelming need to pee woke Scott several hours later. He glanced at the small clock on his bedside stand and the illuminated numbers told him it was four in the morning. Yawning as he stretched, Scott slid out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. He relieved himself quickly then found his clothes and got dressed. There was no way he was hanging around to be taken to another home, and he knew it would be easier to slip out unnoticed during the night when the hospital staffing numbers were smaller. There was something he had to do before he left, though.

Scott slipped silently down the hall to Benny's room. He knew he couldn't leave without saying goodbye, even if his friend couldn't hear him. Luckily, Benny's room wasn't from his own and he arrived in no time. Pushing the door open slowly, Scott slipped quietly into the room. He knew there was another boy in the room, and made a conscious effort to be as quiet as possible. It was hard to see in the dim light with his glasses on, so he had to be extra careful to not bump into anything. When he reached Benny's bed, he stopped. Reaching out, he picked up his friend's hand being careful not to dislodge any of the tubes or wires. There were so many, but it was the sight of the ventilator tube going into Benny's mouth that he found most disconcerting.

In a soft voice, Scott whispered. "Benny, please wake up," he pleaded. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't stop him sooner." A noise at the door made him pause, and seeing someone enter, he stiffened. He considered trying to hide, but it was too late.

"You're not supposed to be in here, young man," a voice said softly. "You should be in your bed sleeping."

Scott could tell it was a woman, and guessing it was a nurse, replied, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I couldn't sleep. Can I just sit with him for a while, please? He's my best friend in the whole world." He knew he sounded like he was ready to cry, and in all honesty, he felt on the verge of tears, but didn't care. "Please?" he pleaded.

"Okay, you can stay for a little while, but you have to be really quiet. Okay?"

Scott nodded in agreement. Then, not sure if she could see him, added, "Yes, ma'am. I promise."

The woman -Scott could tell she was a nurse by the uniform she was wearing- moved closer. "I just need you to move aside for a few minutes while I check a few things."

Moving aside, Scott waited patiently by the far wall as the nurse checked the equipment monitoring Benny, made notes on his chart, and then left the room as silently as she'd entered.

Scott came to his friend's side again and took Benny's hand into his own, silently willing his friend to wake up.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott woke with a start. He was slumped over, his head on the bed and Benny's hand still in his. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but a quick glance out the window at the darkness told him it couldn't have been for too long. Using his free hand, he rubbed his eyes as he yawned. Sighing, he looked at Benny, but there was no change. His eyes were still shut.

"Benny, you have to wake up, buddy. We have to get out of here. The cops are going to be here later to take me to another home and I don't want to go . . . not without you." Scott paused, hoping Benny would wake up and say something, or at least look at him. "Please, Benny." Benny didn't respond.

"I can't stay any longer. I have to get out of here before there are too many people around and they stop me." Pausing for a moment, Scott added, "I'm leaving now, Benny." There was still no response from his friend. "I'm going to New York just like we said we would. The doctor says your in a coma and can't hear anything around you, but I know you can hear me. When you wake up, and I _know_ you will wake up, when you do, come to New York. I'll be waiting for you." Scott released his friend's hand, gently laying it on the bed beside him.

Getting up, Scott headed for the door, turning briefly to look at Benny. Knowing that his friend would not be waking up anytime soon, Scott sighed heavily, wiped the tears from his eyes, and shut the door behind him.

Getting out of the hospital unnoticed was easier than he thought it would be. He opened the door a crack to find the hall was still empty. Quietly, he made his way down the hall to the elevators. Once inside, he pushed the button for the first floor. No one stopped him as he exited the hospital.

It was a long, quiet walk back to where he and Benny had been staying. Scott tried to think of anything other than Benny's condition, but he couldn't. No matter what he did, his thoughts kept turning to his injured friend and the image of those tubes coming out of his body. With a resigned sigh, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was all his fault.

When he reached the house, Scott quickly gathered his meager belongings and stuffed them into his bag before grabbing his money from his secret hiding place. Hesitating, he debated taking Benny's money too. Yes, it was stealing and stealing was wrong, especially when you took from a friend.

On the other hand, it might be a very long time before Benny woke up and someone else might get it by then. Making up his mind that he would pay him back someday, Scott took Benny's money as well and quickly left the house they'd called home for the past three months or so.

_TBC_


End file.
